In this, one of the happiest moments of his life, there came to him a presentiment of evil—one of those sharp, sudden, subtle instincts for which he could never account—a sense of darkness, as though the time were coming when he should look for that dear face and not find it, listen for the beloved voice and not hear it—when he should call in vain for his love and no response meet his ears. All this passed through his mind in the few moments that he held her in his arms and looked in her pure, faultless face.
"Have I startled you?" he asked, seeing how strangely pale and calm it had grown. "Why have you been so cruel to me, Hyacinth? Did you not know that I have been seeking for you all day, longing for five minutes with you? For, Hyacinth, I want to ask you something. Now you are trembling—see how unsteady these sweet hands are. I do not want to frighten you, darling; sit down here and let us talk quietly."
They sat down, and for a few moments a deep silence fell over them, broken only by the ripple of the water and the sound of distant music.
"Hyacinth," said Adrian, gently, "I little thought, when I came here four short weeks since, thinking of nothing but reading three chapters of Goethe before breakfast, that I should find my fate—the fairest and sweetest fate that ever man found. I believe that I loved you then—at that first moment—as dearly as I love you now. You seemed to creep into my heart and nestle there. Until I die there will be no room in my heart for any other."
She sat very still, listening to his passionate words, letting her hands lie within his. It seemed to her like a king coming to take possession of his own.
"I can offer you," he said, "the deepest, best, and purest, love. It has not been frittered away on half a dozen worthless objects. You are my only love. I shall know no other. Hyacinth, will you be my wife?"
It had fallen at last, this gleam of sunlight that had dazzled her so long by its brightness; it had fallen at her feet, and it blinded her.
"Will you be my wife, Hyacinth? Do not say 'Yes' unless you love me; nor because it is any one's wish; nor because Lady Vaughan may have said, 'It would be a suitable arrangement.' But say it if you love me—if you are happy with me."
He remembered in after-years how what she said puzzled him. She clasped her little white hands; she bent her head in sweetest humility.