"You might have been; every one else is." I was wonderfully at sea, and I frankly confessed it to my interlocutress; but the case was not made clearer by her presently exclaiming: "I knew you would, from the moment you should be really in love with her! I knew it would be the test—what do I mean?—the proof."
"Are there such strange bewilderments attached to that high state?" I asked, smiling.
"You perceive there are. You see him, you see him!" Mrs. Marden announced, with tremendous exaltation. "You'll see him again."
"I've no objection; but I shall take more interest in him if you'll kindly tell me who he is."
She hesitated, looking down a moment; then she said, raising her eyes: "I'll tell you if you'll tell me first what you said to her on the way to church."
"Has she told you I said anything?"
"Do I need that?" smiled Mrs. Marden.
"Oh yes, I remember—your intuitions! But I'm sorry to see they're at fault this time; because I really said nothing to your daughter that was the least out of the way."
"Are you very sure?"
"On my honour, Mrs. Marden."
"Then you consider that you're not in love with her?"
"That's another affair!" I laughed.
"You are—you are! You wouldn't have seen him if you hadn't been."
"Who the deuce is he, then, madam?" I inquired with some irritation.
She would still only answer me with another question. "Didn't you at least want to say something to her—didn't you come very near it?"