She frowned a little. "Mr. Brooke," she said, "you disappoint me."
"Well, I'm sorry. Don't revenge yourself by disappointing me."
"I fancied that I had answered your proposal; that I had, at least, anticipated it, the other day at the Lido."
"O, that was very good for the other day; but do give me something different now."
"I doubt of your being more in earnest to-day than then."
"It seems to suit you wonderfully well to doubt!"
"I thank you for the honor of your proposal: but I can't be your wife, Mr. Brooke."
"That's the answer with which you ask me to remain satisfied!"
"Let me repeat what I said just now. You had better leave Venice; otherwise, we must leave it."
"Ah, that's easy to say!"
"You mustn't think me unkind or cynical. You have done your duty."
"My duty,—what duty?"
"Come," she said, with a beautiful blush and the least attempt at a smile, "you imagine that I have suffered an injury by my being left with you at Padua. I don't believe in such injuries."
"No more do I."
"Then there is even less wisdom than before in your proposal. But I strongly suspect that if we had not missed the train at Padua, you would not have made it. There is an idea of reparation in it.—O Sir!" And she shook her head with a deepening smile.
"If I had flattered myself that it lay in my power to do you an injury," I replied, "I should now be rarely disenchanted. As little almost as to do you a benefit!"
"You have loaded me with benefits. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I may be very unreasonable, but if I had doubted of my having to decline your offer three days ago, I should have quite ceased to doubt this evening."
