"I shall not give you a chance, my own; I shall neither rest myself nor let any one else rest until you are my wife. I will not distress you now by talking about it. I shall go to the duchess to-day, and tell her that you have relented in my favor at last; then you will let us decide for you, Madaline, will you not?"
"Yes," she replied, with a smile; "it would be useless for me to rebel."
"You have made some very fatal admissions," he said, laughingly. "You have owned that you love me; after that, denial, resistance, coyness, shyness, nothing will avail. Oh, Madaline, I shall always love this spot where I won you! I will have a picture of this brook-side painted some day. We must go back to the house now; but, before we go, make me happy; tell me of your own free will that you love me."
"You know I do. I love you, Norman--I will say it now--I love you ten thousand times better than my life. I have loved you ever since I first saw you; but I was afraid to say so, because of--well, you know why."
"You are not afraid now, Madaline?"
"No, not now," she replied; "you have chosen me from all the world to be your wife. I will think of nothing but making you happy."
"In token of that, kiss me--just once--of your own free will."
"No," she refused, with a deep blush.
"You will, if you love me," he said; and then she turned her face to his. She raised her pure, sweet lips to his and kissed him, blushing as she did so to the very roots of her golden hair.
"You must never ask me to do that again," she said, gravely.