"Dislike you? No--no!"

"But is there any one else whom you love?"

She laughed aloud at his question. "I do not love any one in the world,"
she answered.

He was glad of her reply; and yet that and the strange laugh jarred upon
his feelings. He was silent for some moments, and then said, with a kind
of effort:

"Well, Lucy, I will not ask too much of you. I dare say I am a romantic
old fool; but if you do not dislike me, and if you do not love any one
else, I see no reason why we should not make a very happy couple. Is it
a bargain, Lucy?"

"Yes."

The baronet lifted her in his arms and kissed her once upon the
forehead, then quietly bidding her good-night, he walked straight out of
the house.

He walked straight out of the house, this foolish old man, because there
was some strong emotion at work in his breast--neither joy nor triumph,
but something almost akin to disappointment--some stifled and
unsatisfied longing which lay heavy and dull at his heart, as if he had
carried a corpse in his bosom. He carried the corpse of that hope which
had died at the sound of Lucy's words. All the doubts and fears and
timid aspirations were ended now. He must be contented, like other men
of his age, to be married for his fortune and his position.