At length was uttered the question for which Rosamund had long ago prepared her reply.
"You cannot expect me," she said sweetly, "to answer at once."
"Of course not! I shouldn't have dared to hope———"
He choked and swallowed; a few beads of perspiration shining on his troubled face.
"You have my address; most likely I shall spend a week or two there. Of course you may write. I shall probably go to my sister's in Scotland, for the autumn———"
"Oh! don't say that—don't. To lose you again—so soon———"
"I only said, 'probably'———"
"Oh, thank you!—To go so far away—And the autumn; just when I have a little freedom; the very best time—if I dared to hope such a thing———"
Rosamund graciously allowed him to bear her company as far as to the street in which she lived.
A few days later she wrote to Mrs. Halliday, heading her letter with the Glasgow address. She lamented the sudden impossibility of returning to her domestic duties. Something had happened. "In short, dear Mrs. Halliday, I am going to be married. I could not give you warning of this, it has come so unexpectedly. Do forgive me! I so earnestly hope that you will find some one to take my place, some one better and more of a help to you. I know I haven't been much use. Do write home at Glasgow and say I may still regard you as a dear friend."
This having been dispatched, she sat musing over her prospects. Mr. Cheeseman had honestly confessed the smallness of his income; he could barely count upon a hundred and fifty a year; but things might improve. She did not dislike him—no, she did not dislike him. He would be a very tractable husband. Compared, of course, with———
