“You are laughing, Walter. I know that’s much more in your thoughts than mine. But I mean a cost.
“A cost, my own?”
“In money, dear. All these preparations that Susan and I are so busy with—I have been able to purchase very little for myself. You were poor before. But how much poorer I shall make you, Walter!”
“And how much richer, Florence!”
Florence laughed, and shook her head.
“Besides,” said Walter, “long ago—before I went to sea—I had a little purse presented to me, dearest, which had money in it.”
“Ah!” returned Florence, laughing sorrowfully, “very little! very little, Walter! But, you must not think,” and here she laid her light hand on his shoulder, and looked into his face, “that I regret to be this burden on you. No, dear love, I am glad of it. I am happy in it. I wouldn’t have it otherwise for all the world!”
“Nor I, indeed, dear Florence.”
“Ay! but, Walter, you can never feel it as I do. I am so proud of you! It makes my heart swell with such delight to know that those who speak of you must say you married a poor disowned girl, who had taken shelter here; who had no other home, no other friends; who had nothing—nothing! Oh, Walter, if I could have brought you millions, I never could have been so happy for your sake, as I am!”
“And you, dear Florence? are you nothing?” he returned.