"Because I love you, love you better than all the world, Cordelia," came his hurried response. His arms made a quick initial movement, instantly arrested, for the place was not just suited to any violent demonstrations; then he added, breathlessly:
She glanced rapidly around, as if expecting to find in the landscape some relief from the embarrassment that flooded her cheeks with blushes. Just then, Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom passed down the pathway leading from the mansion to a little landing on the river, where a small boat lay moored. They were too much absorbed in conversation to notice the lovers, though they could almost have touched them as they went by. Miss Noble remained silent, watching Reynolds assist his graceful companion into the boat and draw in the little painter. Suddenly she looked up and very demurely said:
"They're going for a row on the river: why didn't we think of that? I delight in going out on the water."
"You would take a profound delight in any thing just now that would help you to avoid answering my question, wouldn't you?" he grumbled. "You've forgotten what it was I inquired about, haven't you?"
She laughed in a low, clear way. Reynolds and Mrs. Ransom, lightly startled by the sound, turned their faces quickly and waved a greeting, as they glided out upon the placid stream. They appeared very happy.
"I shall not be put aside so lightly," he went on; "I can't bear it. You must answer me, Cordelia."
He sprang to his feet, and stood gazing down at her with his face actually pale with emotion.
"You don't mean it? You can't mean to drive me from you in this way?" he cried, his voice a little husky.
"Sit down, do, they're looking at us--they'll know what it is," she murmured, making a deprecatory gesture with her hand.
He obeyed, saying rather ungraciously as he did so:
"What if they do know? We needn't care, they're no better. Reynolds is nearly crazy about her; he means to propose to her as soon as they're round the curve." He could not help laughing a little at his own absurdity. But Cordelia pretended to pout.
"You should not say such things about Agnes; she doesn't deserve your levity."
"I didn't say any harm of her," he hastened to reply. "I spoke of Reynolds: he is very much in love. You do not blame him for thinking a great deal of her--I don't blame him at all. I think it is deuced clever of him, don't you know."