"He certainly is not. I have it from Bland himself; and, Dulce," and here he hesitates, as if uncertain whether he ought to proceed or not, "now it is all right, you know, and—and that—and when we have heard he is on the safe road to recovery, it can't be any harm to say what is on my mind, can it?"
"No; I suppose not," says Dulce, blushing vividly.
"Well, then, just say you will marry me the very moment he is on his feet again," says Roger, getting this out with considerable rapidity. "It will seem ungracious of us, I think, not to take advantage of his kindness as soon as possible."
"Supposing he was to go back of it all when he got well," says Dulce, timidly.
"Oh, he can't; a promise is a promise, you know—as he has made us feel. Poor old Stephen!" this last hastily, lest he shall seem hard on his newly-recovered friend.
"If you think that," says Dulce, going close up to him and looking at him with soft love-lit eyes, "I will marry you just whenever you like." To make this sweet assurance doubly sweet, she stands on tiptoe, and, slipping her arms round her lover's neck, kisses him with all her heart.
CHAPTER XXVII.
"About some act
That has no relish of salvation in't."
—Hamlet.