“It is so difficult to begin, Ira; and there are things, such essential things, which I am wondering how I can put without offence to my innocent love. I don’t know how I shall do it, unless—unless you can imagine yourself to be my wife in actual earnest. Do you think you can?”
“Perhaps, Richard—if I shut my eyes very tight.”
“Yes; shut them—that is the way—and a seal on each. Now they can’t open till I break the seal. You are quite blind, Ira? and you must trust yourself to me. I am going to lead you through gloom and wicked places—dreadful, ghastly places; but you mustn’t mind—nothing shall hurt you. Now, are you holding me tight?”
“Yes, Richard. Can’t you feel me?”
* * * * * * * * *
“What do you think, Ira?”
“May I open my eyes?”
“Yes—but wait a minute. There!”
“Shall I be the Honourable Mrs Skene, Richard?”
“So you have jumped to that conclusion? I did not know if you would see it. What wits women have. Don’t cry so, my pretty bird.”