eps up and down the room. "Listen to me, dear
friend," he began, in low, earnest tones. "There was a time--far be it
from me to take undue advantage of these reminiscences--when you and I
were thrown considerably together. At that time, that far-off, happy,
and yet most tantalising time, I was bold enough to cherish certain
aspirations." Here he took up his position behind a chair, resting his
hands lightly on the back of it. "That those aspirations were not wholly
unsuspected by you I had reason to believe. I may, of course, have been
mistaken; love, or vanity if you prefer it, may blind the wisest of us.
In any case, if I was vain, my pride came to the rescue, and sooner than
incur the humiliation of a refusal--possibly a scornful refusal--I kept
my secret locked in the inmost sanctuary of my heart, and went away."
Mr Ogilvie illustrated his disappearance into vacancy by a slight but
most expressive gesture of his arms. "I simply went away. And now I have
come back. I have unburdened myself before you. In the years that are
past, I was silent. Now I have spoken. And I am here to know what answer
you have in your heart to give me."

It had actually come. She remembered how she had told herself that,
though she could never dream of marrying, it really would be very
pleasant to be asked. But now that the proposal had been made she felt
most horribly embarrassed. What in the world was she to say to the
man? She knew him not one bit better than she had done when she saw
him last. He puzzled her more than ever. He did not look like a
despairing lover, but a singularly plump and prosperous gentleman; and
certainly the silver-grey frock-coat, and gold eye-glass, and
varnished shoes struck her as singularly out of harmony with the
extraordinary speech he had just delivered. Yet it was evidently
impromptu, and possibly would never have been delivered at all had not
she herself so blunderingly led up to it. And it was not a bad speech
in its way. There was something really effective about it--or perhaps
it was in the manner of its delivery. So she sat in silence, most
dreadfully ill at ease, and not finding a single word wherewith to
answer him.

"Charlotte," said Mr Ogilvie in a low voice, bending over her,
"Charlotte."

"Mr Ogilvie!" gasped the unhappy lady, almost frightened out of her
wits.

"You _once_ called me Granville," he murmured, trying to take her
hand.

"But I can't do it again!" cried Aunt Charlotte, shakin