His low, earnest tones thrilled her strangely, and she dropped her eyes, as she replied in a low tone: 

“Let me first explain about the writer of the letter.  I never gave him cause to write to me like that, for I have always disliked him.  He has persecuted me shamefully, even so far as to threaten to shoot me if I did not promise to marry him, and the strongest wish that was ever born in my heart is that I may never see his face again.”  The words ended in a whisper, but so intense were the tones that Guy felt she told the truth, and he asked:  “What sort of a young man is he, if I may ask?”

“If he had not made himself an object of dislike to me, I could give you a very favorable account of him,” she answered, lifting her eyes an instant, then turning aside as she met his earnest looks.  “He is well educated and very good-looking, if you admire the kind of beauty that goes with olive skin, eyes like midnight, and hair to correspond.  He has a good bank account also, and would be a good match—­for someone else,” she added, laughing softly.

“Did your father favor his suit, that they correspond yet?”

“Oh! yes; and everything was arranged, settlements, and all.  Nothing was lacking—­except my consent.”

“Then there was never a promise between you?  Forgive me, Miss Dexie, if I seem inquisitive, but I wish very much to know.”

“Nothing like a promise! indeed, nothing could be so distasteful as the thought of such a thing; not even from the first.  I never liked him.”

“But there is someone else, Miss Dexie.  Is there not a promise given to someone else?” came the eager tones.

“Not exactly a promise, Mr. Traverse; but there is a mutual understanding that may lead to one.  I think you would like my friend, particularly if you heard him once at the piano,” she replied, as her cheeks grew pink.

“Then you are not really engaged, Miss Dexie?”

“Now, Mr. Traverse, I think I have told you enough,” she replied, beginning to feel embarrassed.  “Some things are not easy to tell, even though one may not care if the facts are known.”

“But I have not got down to facts yet, Miss Dexie, and I should like to know the truth.  ‘For favors received, be truly grateful.’  I think it is only fair to let me know how matters stand with you and this lover over the sea.”

He waited a moment for her answer, then added, in an eager tone: 

“Your sister told me several times about your engagement to this young gentleman that writes to you from England.  If it is so, why deny it?”

“There is a promise between us to wait a year,” came the low-spoken reply.  “Then, if we are both of the same mind as when we saw each other last, I expect I shall spend the rest of my days in Halifax; but a year is a long time, and much may happen before then.”

What strange power was there in his looks or words that drew this admission from her?  She regretted the words the moment after she uttered them, but she did not know that she had removed the barrier that kept Guy from trying to win her himself.