regarding me with a lowering, sinister expression of countenance. I
saw that it was useless to treat him as I should have treated a
gentleman. He had evidently put the meanest and the foulest
construction upon my delicacy and hesitation in speaking to him: so I
altered my plan, and came to the point abruptly--"came to business,"
as he would have called it.

"I ought to have been plainer, Mr. Sherwin; I ought perhaps to have
told you at the outset, in so many words, that I came to--" (I was
about to say, "to ask your daughter's hand in marriage;" but a thought
of my father moved darkly over my mind at that moment, and the words
would not pass my lips).

"Well, Sir! to what?"

The tone in which he said this was harsh enough to rouse me. It gave
me back my self-possession immediately.

"To ask your permission to pay my addresses to Miss Sherwin--or, to be
plainer still, if you like, to ask of you her hand in marriage."

The words were spoken. Even if I could have done so, I would not have
recalled what I had just said; but still, I trembled in spite of
myself as I expressed in plain, blunt words what I had only
rapturously thought over, or delicately hinted at to Margaret, up to
this time.

"God bless me!" cried Mr. Sherwin, suddenly sitting back bolt upright
in his chair, and staring at me in such surprise, that his restless
features were actually struck with immobility for the moment--"God