“Faith!” said Eugene in his airily candid manner. “Because you won’t let me. Mind! I don’t mean to be reproachful either. I don’t complain that you design to keep me here. But you do it, you do it.”

“Will you walk beside me, and not touch me;” for, his arm was coming about her again; “while I speak to you very seriously, Mr. Wrayburn?”

“I will do anything within the limits of possibility, for you, Lizzie,” he answered with pleasant gaiety as he folded his arms. “See here! Napoleon Bonaparte at St. Helena.”

“When you spoke to me as I came from the Mill the night before last,” said Lizzie, fixing her eyes upon him with the look of supplication which troubled his better nature, “you told me that you were much surprised to see me, and that you were on a solitary fishing excursion. Was it true?”