as if the
speaker refrained from further comment through maidenly hesitation or
restraint. He noticed her odd manner, but being much absorbed in
thoughts of the opera, was not inclined to be sensitive or critical.
After some time had been passed in this manner, she suggested that they
tie up the boat to a projecting bush on the bank of the stream and take
a stroll along the shore.

Alice and Oswald walked along the bank for a few minutes, coming to some
overhanging shrubbery, where there was a seat, used by strollers along
that side of the Thames. They sat down within a few feet of the shore.
The girl still acted strangely, appearing to have some matter in thought
importunate for expression, but nervously suppressed. Oswald inquired if
Alice were still worrying over her financial troubles, adding some
hopeful remarks as to the future, even if the property should pass into
the possession of another. His manner was sympathetic. Overcome by her
emotions and his words, she began to cry.

Oswald was now in a dilemma. He could face danger with unflinching
nerves, but was a novice in such an emergency. Doing what any young man
with generous impulses naturally would do under such circumstances, he
attempted to allay the fears of his hysterical companion. There was
little of premeditated propriety in his words or conduct.

Alice now confessed to Oswald her love. "Much as I dread being left
penniless, such poverty would be nothing compared to loss of you. With
all the worry and uncertainty caused by this villainous conspiracy
against my father's estate, shadowed by fear of the hateful Paul Lanier,
life since meeting you at Northfield has been a joyous dream. Without
you I cannot live, pursued by the cunning malice and crafty scheming of
these persecutors. Will you forgive me, Mr. Langdon, for not waiting a
proposal? You have been so kind, I cannot believe you insincere."

To say that Oswald was embarrassed by this unexpected burst of feminine
emotion would be mild expression of his feelings. He was stunned and
speechless. What could he say in reply? The utter helplessness of Alice,
with her despondent future outlook, pursued by enemies whose aims were
cruelly vague, against all restraints of maidenly sentiment declaring
love for one having no responsive feeling other than pity, was pathetic.
Had he not unwittingly contributed to her misery by his unguarded
conduct? Would not his denial of her strange suit be a base betrayal?