But he
would not say a word to encourage her to mention the name of Mary
Masters. He thought that he was sure that were the girl free he
would now ask her to be his wife. If he loved any one it was her.
If he had ever known a woman with whom he thought it would be
pleasant to share the joy and labours of life, it was Mary Masters.
If he could imagine that any one constant companion would be a joy
to him, she would be that person. But he had been distinctly
informed that she was in love with some one, and not for worlds
would he ask for that which had been given to another. And not for
worlds would he hazard the chance of a refusal. He thought that he
could understand the delight, that he could thoroughly enjoy the
rapture, of hearing her whisper with downcast eyes, that she could
love him. He had imagination enough to build castles in the air in
which she reigned as princess, in which she would lie with her head
upon his bosom and tell him that he was her chosen prince. But he
would, hardly know how to bear himself should he ask in vain. He
believed he could love as well as Lawrence Twentyman, but he was
sure that he could not continue his quest as that young man had
done.
When Lady Ushant had been a day or two at the house she asked him
whether she might invite Mary there as her guest;--as her perpetual
guest.
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