And so she told him a day or two after his arrival, as they once more walked up and down the grey-walled garden together, and Kate talked of her difficulties with an impulse of confidence never felt towards any other human being.
“I thought it so hard that you would not speak out plainly to me and tell me what I ought to do, but I see now that it was quite right, I should not have understood.”
“It would not have been fair to influence you,” said Walter.
“Perhaps not. But now you think I was right? Now, you know that you can speak freely.”
“Yes, I can speak freely at last!” cried Walter, pausing in his walk. “At last! If you knew the trial of silence. How could I speak to the heiress of Kingsworth or say a word that might not be misconstrued? But now, now, Kate, Kate, your own self—may I not tell you that I love you—you—not your wealth, it is too much still; but you—you. My darling—that is what I want to say.”
“I never thought of that!” cried Kate abruptly.
“But you will think now; I know you are too innocent to guess.”
“No,” said Kate, “I was thinking—I thought I liked some one else, but I did not know anything in those days. Now—”
“Now?” said Walter, as he took her hand.
“Now,” said Kate, with her old abruptness, but with a new deeper tone in her fresh young voice. “Now I know it is you!”