"
Marian came in at the open window while he was still pacing to and fro
with a disturbed countenance.
"My dear uncle, what is the matter?" she asked, going up to him and
laying a caressing hand upon his shoulder. "I know you never walk about
like that unless you are worried by something."
"I am not worried to-day, my love; only a little perplexed," answered the
Captain, detaining the caressing little hand, and planting himself face
to face with his niece, in the full sunlight of the broad bow-window.
"Marian, I thought you and I had no secrets from each other?"
"Secrets, uncle George!"
"Yes, my dear. Haven't you something pleasant to tell your old
uncle--something that a girl generally likes telling? You had a visitor
yesterday afternoon while I was asleep."
"Mr. Fenton."
"Mr. Fenton. He has been here with me just now; and I know that he asked
you to be his wife."
"He did, uncle George."
"And you didn't refuse him, Marian?"
"Not positively, uncle George. He took me so much by surprise, you see;
and I really don't know how to refuse any one; but I think I ought to
have made him understand more clearly that I meant no."
"But why, my dear?"
"Because I am sure I don't care about him as much as I ought to care. I
like him very well, you know, and think him clever and agreeable, and all
that kind of thing.
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