There is silence between them after this, that lasts a full minute,—a long time for lovers freshly made.
"What are you thinking of?" asks Dorian, presently, bending to look tenderly into her downcast eyes. Perhaps he is hoping eagerly that she has been wasting a thought upon him.
"I shall never have to teach those horrid lessons again," she says, with a quick sigh of relief.
If he is disappointed, he carefully conceals it. He laughs, and, lifting her exquisite face, kisses her gently.
"Never," he says, emphatically. "When you go home, tell Mr. Redmond all about it; and to-morrow Clarissa will go down to the vicarage and bring you up to Gowran, where you must stay until we are married."
"I shall like that," says Georgie, with a sweet smile. "But, Mr. Branscombe——"
"Who on earth is Mr. Branscombe?" asks Dorian. "Don't you know my name yet?"
"I do. I think it is almost the prettiest name I ever heard,—Dorian."
"Darling! I never thought it a nice name before; but now that you have called me by it, I can feel its beauty. But I dare say if I had been christened Jehoshaphat I should, under these circumstances, think just the same. Well, you were going to say——?"
"Perhaps Clarissa will not care to have me for so long."