A curious
feeling--disappointment, perhaps--stole over me. His matter-of-fact
coolness flabbergasted me.

"Is this not rather sudden? You have given me no intimation of your
intentions," I stammered.

"I didn't think it wise to dawdle any longer," he replied. "Surely you
have known what I've been driving at ever since I first clapped eyes on
you. There's plenty of time. I don't want to hurry you, only I want you
to be engaged to me for safety."

He spoke as usual in his slow twangy drawl, which would have proclaimed
his Colonial nationality anywhere. No word of love was uttered to me and
none requested from me.

I put it down to his conceit. I thought that he fancied he could win any
woman, and me without the least palaver or trouble. I felt annoyed. I
said aloud, "I will become engaged to you;" to myself I added, "Just for a
little while, the more to surprise and take the conceit out of you when
the time comes."

Now that I understand his character I know that it was not conceit, but
just his quiet unpretending way. He had meant all his actions towards me,
and had taken mine in return.

"Thank you, Sybylla, that is all I want. We will talk about the matter
more some other time. I will go up to Caddagat next Sunday. You have
surprised me nearly out of my wits," here he laughed. "I never dreamt you
would say yes so easily, just like any other girl. I thought I would have
a lot of trouble with you."

He approached me and was stooping to kiss me. I cannot account for my
action or condemn it sufficiently. It was hysterical--the outcome of an
overstrung, highly excitable, and nervous temperament. Perhaps my vanity
was wounded, and my tendency to strike when touched was up in arms. The
calm air of ownership with which Harold drew near annoyed me, or, as
Sunday-school teachers would explain it, Satan got hold of me. He
certainly placed a long strong riding-whip on the table beneath my hand!
As Harold stooped with the intention of pressing his lips to mine, I
quickly raised the whip and brought it with all my strength right across
his face. The instant the whip had descended I would have smashed my arm
on the door-post to recall that blow. But that was impossible. It had
left a great weal on the healthy sun-tanned skin. His moustache had saved
his lips, but it had caught his nose, the left cheek, had blinded the
left eye, and had left a cut on the temple from which drops of blood were
rolling down his cheek and staini