Page:The Wanderer (1814 Volume 1).pdf/391

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I must appear extremely importunate, but—"

The astonishment with which he turned round, at the sound of her voice, could only be equalled by the pleasure with which he met her eyes; and only surpassed, by the sudden burst of clashing ideas with which he saw her own instantly drop; while her voice, also, died away; her cheeks became the colour of crimson; and she was evidently and wholly at a loss what to say.

"Importunate?" he gently repeated, "impossible!" yet he waited her own explanation.

Her confusion now became deeper; any sort of interrogation would have encouraged and aided her; but his quiet, though attentive forbearance seemed the result of some suspension of opinion. Ashamed and grieved, she involuntarily looked away, as she indistinctly pronounced, "I must appear . . . . very strange . . . . but I am constrained . . . . Circumstances of which I am not the