t, he kept puffing away,
utterly unconscious of the fact. He seemed to expect an answer. I
hesitated; I did not know what to reply. I had got so accustomed to
Cousin John that I never looked upon him in any other light than that
of a favourite brother, a constant companion and friend. Moreover, I
was not prepared to take any such decisive step as that to which he
now seemed to be urging me. There is a great difference between
_liking_ people and giving them power of life and death over one for
the rest of one's days. I will not say that the image of another did
not rise before me in all its winning beauty as I had seen it last,
scarcely one short week ago. Altogether I did not know what to say; so
I wisely said nothing, but walked on, looking straight before me, with
an uncomfortable feeling that I was driven into a corner, and should
ere long be compelled to do that which is always distasteful to our
liberty-loving sex--namely, to "make up my mind."

John too walked on for a few paces in silence. We were at the corner
of Lowndes Street. There was not a soul to be seen but our two selves.
All at once he stopped short under the light of a lamp and looked me
full in the face.

"Kate," said he, in a grave, deliberate voice, "you know what I
mean--Yes or No?"

I shook like a leaf. What would I have given to have been able to take
counsel of one of my own sex--Mrs. Lumley, Aunt Deborah, or even cold,
pitiless Lady Horsingham! But I had to choose for myself. I felt that
the turning-point of my destiny had arrived--that the game was in my
own hand, and that now I ought to decide one way or the other. I
shrank from the responsibility. Like a very woman, I adopted a middle
course.

"Give me time, John," I pleaded--"give me time to weigh matters over
in my own mind. This is an affair that equally concerns the happiness
of each of us. Do not let us decide in a hurry. Aunt Deborah was quite
right: her wishes ought to be my law. When I am five-and-twenty it
will be soon enough to enter on this subject again. In the interval,
believe me, John, I have the greatest regard and esteem for you."

"Nothing more, Kate," said John, looking as if he didn't know whether
he was pleased or annoyed--"nothing but _esteem_?"

"Well, I mustn't say any more," was my reply; "but you know you have
_that_."

John's face brightened considerably. "And in the meantime, Kate," he
urged, "you won't allow yourself to be entangled with any one else?"