Could it be real? Was it true that she had
her foot firmly placed in Paradise? He was there, close to her,
with his arm still round her, and her fingers grasped within his.
The word wife was still in her ears,--surely the sweetest word in
all the language! What protestation of love could have been so
eloquent as that question? "Will you be my wife?" No true man, she
thought, ever ought to ask the question in any other form. But her
eyes were still full of tears, and as she went she knew not where
she was going. She had forgotten all her surroundings, being only
aware that he was with her, and that no other eyes were on them.
Then there was another stile on reaching which he withdrew his arm
and stood facing her with his back leaning against it. "Why do you
weep?" he said;--"and, Mary, why do you not answer my question? If
there be anybody else you must tell me now."
"There is nobody else," she said almost angrily. "There never was.
There never could be."
"And yet there was somebody!" She pouted her lips at him, glancing
up into his face for half a second, and then again hung her head
down. "Mary, do not grudge me my delight"
"No;--no;--no!"
"But you do."
"No. If there can be delight to you in so poor a thing, have it
all."
"Then you must kiss me, dear." She gently came to him,--oh so
gently,--and with her head still hanging, creeping towards his
shoulder, thinking perhaps that the motion should have been his,
but still obeying him, and then, leaning against him, seemed as
though she would stoop with her lips to his hand.
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