She clung to him in a self-inflicted agony of doubt, knowing full well that in a moment it would be turned to the warmth of a delicious security.
"My foolish Lizzie," he murmured, "I love you a thousand times more."
"But you seem sad sometimes, as if you half regretted what you had done."
"I am not sad, my dearest. If I seem serious, it is because I am awed by the knowledge that you are mine."
"Oh, and I am yours, I am indeed yours."
Edward looked into her burning brown eyes that were unlike any other brown eyes he had ever seen, because they caught somehow the hues and shadows of her deep auburn hair, as a woodland pool appears stained with autumn like the trees above.
"Your eyes," he murmured, and he felt a longing to drown within their deeps.
"Do you like my eyes?"
"Elizabeth! You vain, vain Elizabeth!"