She came up to him, and placed her hands in his. He held her at his arms' length for a few moments, saying nothing, feasting his eyes with her beauty; then he drew her close to him and kissed her passionately.
She tried to free herself from his grasp with a little low laugh that only encouraged him to hold her the closer, and they felt their hearts beat against each other.
When he released her there was a deep colour on her face, and she looked up at him with a pretty expression, a half smile, half-pout upon her mouth, as if she did not quite know whether to laugh or cry, be pleased or angry.
He led her to the bench under the beech-tree, and when they were seated spoke to her, her hands still held in his.
"My darling! so you have sent for me. Oh, my love! I can see that it is good news you have to tell me this day."
She made no reply, but he felt her hand tighten its grasp of his.
"Mary! dare I hope at last, that you will allow me to be your friend, your husband? Have all the difficulties you spoke of been removed?"
"Harry! the shadow has gone from my life. What I feared would be done will not be done. You were right in what you said. To reveal my secret now would do no harm nor good to anyone. The mischief of the secret has gone for ever."
"Thank God!" cried her lover excitedly; "and now, Mary, there is nothing between us. Keep the secret; do not betray your friends. I do not care to know it. I understand you, this precious scheme, whatever it was, has come to nothing, has been abandoned. My darling! What do I care what it was? I know well it is nothing that should bring blame to your innocent soul. Poor child! that you should have become the tool of these wicked designing wretches! But now it is all over. You trust me, Mary, don't you?"
Another pressure of the hand was a sufficient answer to him.