"I will speak to her, sir: I will take the first opportunity of
speaking to her alone," was the result of such thoughts as these; and
upon Sir Thomas's information of her being at that very time walking
alone in the shrubbery, he instantly joined her.

"I am come to walk with you, Fanny," said he. "Shall I?" Drawing her
arm within his. "It is a long while since we have had a comfortable
walk together."

She assented to it all rather by look than word. Her spirits were low.

"But, Fanny," he presently added, "in order to have a comfortable walk,
something more is necessary than merely pacing this gravel together.
You must talk to me. I know you have something on your mind. I know
what you are thinking of. You cannot suppose me uninformed. Am I to
hear of it from everybody but Fanny herself?"

Fanny, at once agitated and dejected, replied, "If you hear of it from
everybody, cousin, there can be nothing for me to tell."

"Not of facts, perhaps; but of feelings, Fanny. No one but you can
tell me them. I do not mean to press you, however. If it is not what
you wish yourself, I have done. I had thought it might be a relief."

"I am afraid we think too differently for me to find any relief in
talking of what I feel."