“I suppose it was her name. I never heard she had another.”
“Tonkins,” he said, “Tonkins?” and he looked searchingly at me, with
his monk of the Inquisition air.
I can be so irritating not telling people things when I like, and it
was quite a while before he elicited the facts from me, which Mrs.
Carruthers had often hurled at my head in moments of anger, that poor
mamma’s father had been Lord de Brandreth, and her mother Heaven knows
who!
“So you see”--I ended with--“I haven’t any relations, after all, have
I?”
He sat down upon the sofa.
“Evangeline, there is nothing for it, you must marry me,” he said.