They sat side by side in the little bower
at the end of the long walk--Joe's fair head resting in her
unconsciousness upon John's shoulder. Presently she stirred, and opening
her eyes, looked up into his face. She drew gently away from him, and a
warm blush spread quickly over her pale cheek; she glanced down at her
small white hands and they clasped each other convulsively.
John looked at her; suddenly his gray eyes grew dark and deep, and the
mighty passion took all his strength into its own, so that he trembled and
turned pale again. But the words failed him no longer now. He knew in a
moment all that he had to say, and he said it.
"You must not be angry with me, Miss Thorn," he began, "you must not think
I am losing my head. Let me tell you now--perhaps you will listen to me.
God knows, I am not worthy to say such things to you, but I will try to
be. It is soon said. I love you; I can no more help loving you than I can
help breathing. You have utterly changed me, and saved me, and made a life
for me out of what was not life at all.
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