‘Dead?’ repeated Diana. ‘Yes.’ She riveted a searching gaze on her brother’s face. ‘And what then?’ she demanded, in a low voice. ‘What then, Die?’ he replied, maintaining a marble immobility of feature. ‘What then? Why—nothing. Read.’ He threw the letter into her lap.…

‘Do explain,’ I urged, when he halted once more. ‘I will; and you shall hear how poor the proposal is,—how trivial— how cramping. I shall not stay long at Morton, now that my father is dead, and that I am my own master. I…

‘Don’t make her talk any more now, St. John,’ said Diana, as I paused; ‘she is evidently not yet fit for excitement. Come to the sofa and sit down now, Miss Elliott. I gave an involuntary half start at hearing the alias: I had…

Diana laughed. ‘Why, she can’t he above seventeen or eighteen years old, St. John,’ said she. ‘I am near nineteen: but I am not married. No. ’ I felt a burning glow mount to my face; for bitter and agitating recollections were awakened by…