"
"Really?" she answered innocently. "Well, I shall be at home
tomorrow morning, and if you come up about eleven you are sure to
find me."
"Miss Greendale is at the other end of the garden, sir," the
servant said, as he enquired for her the next morning. "She asked
me to tell you if you called that she was there."
With considerable assurance of success, Carthew walked into the
garden. She must know what he wanted to say to her, and he had of
late felt sure that her answer would be favourable when the
question was put. She was sitting on the same bench on which two
days before she had heard George Lechmere's story.
"You know what I have come for, Miss Greendale," he began at once.
"I think that you know how I feel towards you, and how deeply I
love you. I have come to ask you to be my wife."
"Before I answer you, Mr. Carthew," she said, calmly, "I must ask
you to listen to a story. It was told me here two days ago by a man
named George Lechmere. Do you know him?"
"I seem to have heard his name, though I cannot say where," he
replied, surprised at the coolness with which she spoke.
"He is a farmer's son, I believe, and he was an interested party,
though not the chief actor of the story.
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