“Oh, dear,” said Miss de Bourgh. “I am ever so sorry to hear it, but what can I do to ease such distress? You know the little influence I have with my mother.”

“Everything,” said Sir William, “as the interview solely concerned you.”

“Me?” Anne replied, assuming an expressive countenance of shock and wonder.

“Yes, you. I had gone to ask your mother for consent to offer you my hand in marriage. And—in an interview I will ever remember—your mother has these many weeks mistaken my attentions to you for affection for herself. When at the last possible moment the misunderstanding was discovered, she was become very angry, and I am afraid she will forgive neither of us easily.”

“Oh,” said Miss de Bourgh, turning quickly away. “This is wretched news, indeed.” She spent a few moments in the business of arranging her face to speak less of amusement and something more like concern, but the images of her mother being so utterly humiliated at the hands of the unwitting Sir William raised her spirits to such a degree that she could not immediately recompose herself and assume her usual air of indifference—a most extraordinary event indeed. “And, pray, how was the unfortunate situation resolved at the close of your meeting? What were the last words you spoke to one another? It is necessary to be quite clear upon the matter, as at least one of us must be sacrificed in expiation of the sin.”

“She would not look to hear my apology for the cruelty she had inflicted upon herself, and I must own that I was so shocked at the dénouement that I left as quickly as I could. I have always believed myself as perceptive as the next man, but her misunderstanding caught me entirely by surprise. In life, I aim for nothing but to render myself agreeable to all whose friendship I value, and had not an idea that your mother was grown attached to me as an husband, not as her future son.” Taking both of Anne’s hands in his, he continued, “My ardent affection for her daughter has long occupied my thoughts to such a degree, that any perception of feelings I might unknowingly be engendering in another heart was impossible.”

Anne looked as beseechingly as was in her power, and asked with a smile, “Sir William, is this an offer of marriage? Or, merely an elaborate stratagem to insult my mother?”