"Hate you!" he exclaimed, taking her hands from her face and kissing it. "You silly little thing! you say that to tease me." He paused a little, looking into her eyes as he held her head, and then continued in a voice that shook with strong passion, "You know I trust you—trust you as I would—as I would—yes!—even as I would trust the good God himself, who created that pure soul of yours, my queen! Ah! Mary, Mary, you do not half understand how dear you are to me now!"
"Yes I do, Harry; I have only to think of what you are to me, to understand it," she said, smiling through her tears.
"It is delicious to hear those words from your lips, Mary!"
"And you are not ashamed of me then, dear, after what I have told you?"
"Ashamed of you? No! prouder of you than ever. It is a strange history this of yours, Mary. Very few could have come out of such an ordeal unscathed, as you have done."
"I wish I could tell you all the rest too, dear; I do so wish you knew my secret. But I have sworn not to reveal it."
"There is now no object for revealing it, pet, except to gratify my idle curiosity; and I would not have you do that. But I have an important question to ask you."
"What is it?"
He put his arm round her and drew her close to him. "When are we to be married?"
"Oh! I have not thought of that yet."