"I thank you more than I can say for your offer," she rejoined at last; "it does me great honour."
"Ah, don't say that!" Lord Warburton broke out. "I was afraid you would say something like that. I don't see what you have to do with that sort of thing. I don't see why you should thank me—it is I who ought to thank you, for listening to me; a man whom you know so little, coming down on you with such a thumper! Of course it's a great question; I must tell you that I would rather ask it than have it to answer myself. But the way you have listened—or at least your having listened at all—gives me some hope."
"Don't hope too much," Isabel said.
"Oh, Miss Archer!" her companion murmured, smiling again in his seriousness, as if such a warning might perhaps be taken but as the play of high spirits—the coquetry of elation.
"Should you be greatly surprised if I were to beg you not to hope at all?" Isabel asked.
"Surprised? I don't know what you mean by surprise. It wouldn't be that; it would be a feeling very much worse."
Isabel walked on again; she was silent for some minutes.
"I am very sure that, highly as I already think of you, my opinion of you, if I should know you well, would only rise. But I am by no means sure that you would not be disappointed. And I say that not in the least out of conventional modesty; it is perfectly sincere."
"I am willing to risk it, Miss Archer," her companion answered.
"It's a great question, as you say; it's a very difficult question."
"I don't expect you, of course, to answer it outright. Think it over as long as may be necessary. If I can gain by waiting,
