her, and she loves me; and yet there is a sort of
strangeness between us. One talks a good deal about one's self when one
is in love, at least I do. I've told her all about myself and my mother,
and how I came in for this place, and the rest of it. Well--though it
doesn't strike me when we are together--it comes across me now and then,
when I'm away from her, that she doesn't say much on her side. In fact,
I know no more about her than you do."

"Do you mean that you know nothing about Miss Gwilt's family and
friends?"

"That's it, exactly."

"Have you never asked her about them?"

"I said something of the sort the other day," returned Allan: "and I'm
afraid, as usual, I said it in the wrong way. She looked--I can't quite
tell you how; not exactly displeased, but--oh, what things words are!
I'd give the world, Midwinter, if I could only find the right word when
I want it as well as you do."

"Did Miss Gwilt say anything to you in the way of a reply?"

"That's just what I was coming to. She said, 'I shall have a melancholy
story to tell you one of these days, Mr. Armadale, about myself and my
family; but you look so happy, and the circumstances are so distressing,
that I have hardly the heart to speak of it now.' Ah, _she_ can express
herself--with the tears in her eyes, my dear fellow, with the tears
in her eyes! Of course, I changed the subject directly. And now the
difficulty is how to get back to it, delicately, without making her cry
again. We _must_ get back to it, you know. Not on my account; I am quite
content to marry her first and hear of her family misfortunes, poor
thing, afterward. But I know Mr. Brock. If I can't satisfy him about her
family when I write to tell him of this (which, of course, I must do),
he will be dead against the whole thing. I'm my own master, of course,
and I can do as I like about it. But dear old Brock was such a good
friend to my poor mother, and he has been such a good friend to me--you
see what I mean, don't you?"

"Certainly, Allan; Mr. Brock has been your second father. Any
disagreement between you about such a serious matter as this would be
the saddest thing that could happen. You ought to satisfy him that Miss
Gwilt is (what I am sure Miss Gwilt will prove to be) worthy, in every
way worthy--" His voice sank in spite of him, and he left the sentence
unfinished.

"Just my feeling in the matter!" Allan struck in, glibly. "Now we can
come to what I particularly wanted