She had not thought that he would perceive the girlish little caress; she drew back quickly. Then he opened his eyes. It seemed almost as if he had been trying to keep them shut.
"It is of no use," he murmured, looking at her. "Kiss me, Anne. Kiss me once. Oh, my darling! my darling!" And with more strength than she supposed him to possess, he threw his arms round her, drew her lovely face down to his and kissed her fondly, not once, but many times.
And she, at first resisting love's sweet violence, at last yielded to it; for, she loved him.
The rain still fell; it was growing toward twilight. Footsteps were approaching.
"It is Diana," said Anne.
But Heathcote still held her.
"Please let me go," she said, smiling happily.
"Then tell me you love me."
"You know I do, Ward," she answered, blushing deeply, yet with all the old honesty in her sincere eyes.
"Will you come and say good-night to me if I let you go now?"