Gwenda's head bent lower, and there was a vivid glow on her cheek as she answered:
"Your life here must be so full of brightness, the scenes around you are so lovely, it is no wonder if they follow you into your dreams. But—but, Mr. Owen, I will not pretend to misunderstand you."
"You understand me, and yet you are not angry with me? Only tell me that, Miss Vaughan, and I shall be satisfied; and yet not quite satisfied, for I crave your love, and can never be happy without it."
There was no answer on Gwenda's lips, but the eyes, which were bent on her work, grew humid with feeling.
"I love you, but dare I have the presumption to hope that you return my love? You know me here as my uncle's nephew, but it is not in that character that I would wish you to think of me now."
What was it in the girl's pure and honest face which seemed to bring out Will's better nature?
"I am only William Owens" (he even added the plebeian "s" to his name) "the son of the old farmer Ebben Owens of Garthowen; 'tis true my uncle calls me his son, and promises that I shall inherit his wealth, but there is no legal certainty of that. He might die to-morrow, and I should only be William Owens, the poor student of Llaniago College, and yet I venture to tell you of my love. I think I must be mad! I seek in vain for any possible reason why you should accept my love, and I can find none."
"Only the best of all reasons," said Gwenda, almost in a whisper.
"Gwenda! what is that?" said Will, rising to his feet, an action which the girl followed before she answered.
"Only because I love you too."