“Virginia, may I hope that some day you will learn to love me?” Winthrop asked, with eager hope patent in his voice.
Virginia Treveling was a truthful woman, and so she answered truthfully:
“No, not learn to love you, Harvey, for I do love you already!”
A moment more, and the head of the fair young girl was pillowed on the manly bosom of her lover.
Oh! the flood of joy that came over the young man when he discovered that the love that he wished so to gain was all his own. That the heart now beating so fondly against his breast was devoted to him, and to him alone.
“Virginia, do you love me, then?” he asked.
“Yes,” she murmured, softly.
“You will be my wife?”
“Yes.”
“You will be mine, then, forever and forever?”