the _gêne_ of the situation.

At last Mr. Carruthers said to Mr. Barton that he would go round and see
the house, and I said tea would be ready when they got back. And so they
started.

My cheeks would burn, and my hands were so cold, it was awkward and
annoying--not half the simple affair I had thought it would be up-stairs.

When it was quite dark and the lamps were brought, they came back to the
hall, and Mr. Barton, saying he did not want any tea, left us to find
papers in the library.

I gave Mr. Carruthers some tea, and asked the usual things about sugar and
cream. His eye had almost a look of contempt as he glanced at me, and I
felt an angry throb in my throat. When he had finished he got up and stood
before the fire again. Then, deliberately, as a man who has determined to
do his duty at any cost, he began to speak.

"You know the wish, or, rather, I should say, the command, my aunt left
me," he said. "In fact, she states that she had always brought you up to
the idea. It is rather a tiresome thing to discuss with a stranger, but
perhaps we had better get it over as soon as possible, as that is what I
came down here to-day for. The command was I should marry you." He paused
a moment. I remained perfectly still, with my hands idly clasped in my
lap, and made myself keep my eyes on his face.

He continued, finding I did not answer, just a faint tone of resentment
creeping into his voice--because I would not help him out, I suppose. I
should think not! I loved annoying him!