She was silent again, lost in thought.
The common had to be once more crossed, which meant another struggle with the wind. Mr. Willoughby would not interrupt her thoughts. They reached the long lane, and traversed half of it, with few words.
Then, suddenly, Mildred stood still. She put up her veil, and turned her face towards her companion.
"Mr. Willoughby—"
"Yes."
A bright colour came into her cheeks.
"I think—I hardly think it is right to keep you longer in uncertainty. I mean—it is not needful. I find that I shall not need to wait—that I do not need more time. I think I know now."
The flushing cheeks, the brightening eyes, filled him with gladness. No one was within sight, and he took her hand in his.
"Will you be my wife, Mildred?"
"If you think I can make you happy—yes," she answered.