"What is it, dear?"
"I want to ask you something."
"It can't be anything very terrible; you need not hesitate so."
"Only because it sounds foolish!"
"Nothing ever can seem foolish from your lips," he said, softly; and she blushed like a girl at his praise.
"That woman you—you loved once," she said; "was she dearer to you than I am?"
Grantley Mellen's face darkened.
"Let me blot out all thought of that time," he exclaimed, passionately; "I would like to burn out of my soul every trace of those years in which she had a part. I loved her with the passion of youth—no, Bessie, it was not a feeling so deep and holy as my love for you, and it is over for ever."
His face softened, and his voice trembled with a more gentle emotion, for he thought of that lone grave on the hillside, which he had so lately seen closed over his first love.
"Then you do love me?" whispered his wife; "you do love me?"