'I am sorry,' said the Squire hurriedly. 'I don't know--it was a
whim. I wanted to have the pleasure--'
'Of seeing how a person looks under a sudden disappointment?' said
Elizabeth, with rather pinched lips.
'Not at all. It was a childish thing--I wanted to see you smile
when I gave you the thing back. There--that's the truth. It was you
disappointed me!'
Elizabeth's wrath vanished. She hid her face in her hands and
laughed. But there was agitation behind the laughter. These were not
the normal ways of a reasonable man.
When she looked up, the Squire had moved to a log close beside her.
The March sun was pouring down upon them, and there was a robin
singing, quite undisturbed by their presence, in a holly-bush near.
The Squire's wilful countenance had never seemed to Elizabeth more
full of an uncanny and even threatening energy. Involuntarily she
withdrew her seat.
'I wish to be allowed to make a very serious proposition to you,' he
said eagerly, 'one that I have been considering for weeks.
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