“My hus—go on—my hus—”
“My huswife that shall be.”
Then they walked very slowly towards the house, and once more Rose left quizzing, and was all tenderness.
“Will you not come in, and bid them ‘good-night’?”
“No, my own; I am in heaven. Common faces—common voices would bring me down to earth. Let me be alone;—your sweet words ringing in my ear. I will dilute you with nothing meaner than the stars. See how bright they shine in heaven; but not so bright as you shine in my heart.”
“Dear Edouard, you flatter me, you spoil me. Alas! why am I not more worthy of your love?”
“More worthy! How can that be?”
Rose sighed.
“But I will atone for all. I will make you a better—(here she substituted a full stop for a substantive)—than you expect. You will see else.”
She lingered at the door: a proof that if Edouard, at that particular moment, had seized another kiss, there would have been no very violent opposition or offence.