la,
if you knew how much I think of you."

"But you shouldn't. You haven't got a right."

"I have got a right."

"But I don't want it, Tom, and I won't have it." He had carried her
away now to the end of the terrace, or ruined tier of seats, on which
they were walking, and had got her so hemmed into a corner that she
could not get away from him. She was afraid of him, lest he should
put out his hand to take hold of her,--lest something even more
might be attempted. And yet his manner was manly and sincere, and
had it not been for his pins and his chains she could not but have
acknowledged his goodness to her, much as she might have disliked his
person. "I want to get out," she said. "I won't stay here any more."
Mr. Traffick, on the top of St. Peter's, had been a much pleasanter
companion.

"Don't you believe me when I tell you that I love you better than
anybody?" pleaded Tom.

"No."

"Not believe me? Oh, Ayala!"

"I don't want to believe anything. I want to get out. If you go on,
I'll tell my aunt."

Tell her aunt! There was a want of personal consideration to himself
in this way of receiving his addresses which almost angered him. Tom
Tringle was not in the least afraid of his mother,--was not even
afraid of his father as long as he was fairly regular at the office
in Lombard Street. He was quite determined to please himself in
marriage, and was disposed to think that his father and mother would
like him to be settled. Money was no object. There was, to his
thinking, no good reason why he should not marry his cousin. For her
the match was so excellent that he hardly expected she would reject
him when she could be made to understand that he was really in
earnest. "You may tell all the world," he said proudly. "All I want
is that you should love me."

"But I don't. There are Gertrude and Mr. Houston, and I want to go to
them."

"Say one nice word to me, Ayala."

"I don't know how to say a nice word. Can't you be made to understand
that I don't like it?"

"Ayala."

"Why don't you let me go away?"

"Ayala,--give me--one--kiss." Then Ayala did go away, escaping by
some kid-like manoeuvre among the ruins, and running quickly, while
he followed her, joined herself to the other pair of lovers, who
probably were less in want of her society than she of theirs. "Ayala,
I am quite in earnest," said Tom, as they were walking home, "and I
mean to go on with it."

Ayala thought that there was nothing for it