There was something
half-plaintive in the modulated cadences of the query.
"Agnes," Mary answered affectionately, "this is Mr. Irwin, who
has come to see you in behalf of General Hastings."
"Oh!" the girl murmured, her voice quivering a little, as the
lawyer, after a short nod, dropped again into his seat; "oh, I'm
so frightened!" She hurried, fluttering, to a low stool behind
the desk, beside Mary's chair, and there she sank down, drooping
slightly, and catching hold of one of Mary's hands as if in mute
pleading for protection against the fear that beset her chaste
soul.
"Nonsense!" Mary exclaimed, soothingly. "There's really nothing
at all to be frightened about, my dear child." Her voice was
that with which one seeks to cajole a terrified infant. "You
mustn't be afraid, Agnes. Mr. Irwin says that General Hastings
did not promise to marry you. Of course, you understand, my
dear, that under no circumstances must you say anything that
isn't strictly true, and that, if he did not promise to marry
you, you have no case--none at all.
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