Where is Beatrice?
” asked her father. “I don’t know,” she answered, and at that moment Beatrice, pale and troubled, walked into the room, like a lamb to the slaughter. “Ah, Beatrice,” said her father, “we were just asking for you.” She glanced round, and with the quick wit of a human animal, instantly perceived that some new danger threatened her. “Indeed,” she said, sinking into a chair in an access of feebleness born of fear. “What is it, father?” Mr. Granger looked at Owen Davies and then took a step towards the door. It struck him forcibly that this scene should be private to the two persons principally concerned. “Don’t go,” said Owen Davies excitedly, “don’t go, either of you; what I have to say had better be said before you both. I should like to say it before the whole world; to cry it from the mountain tops.” Elizabeth glared at him fiercely–glared first at him and then at the innocent Beatrice. Could he be going to propose to her, then? Ah, why had she hesitated? Why had she not told him the
