"Because I want it, Annie. If you will let me have it, I will paint a full-length portrait of you for the next Academy, in which every one shall recognise a striking likeness of the beautiful and accomplished Miss Maurice."
"Don't, Geoffrey," said Annie gravely. "I am not in the least more beautiful now than I was when you took my likeness long ago; but you shall have the drawing, and you shall paint the picture, and it shall belong to Arthur, to remind him of me when I am gone abroad."
"Gone abroad!" said Geoffrey, starting up from his chair and approaching her. "You--gone abroad!"
"Yes," she said, with a very faint smile. "Is no one to see men and cities, and sand and sphinxes, and mummies and Nile boatmen, except yourself? Don't you remember how Caterham always wished me to travel and improve my mind?"
"I remember," said Geoff moodily; "but I don't think your mind wants improving, Annie. How selfish I am! I really had a kind of fancy that this was your home; different as it is from such as you might, as you may command, it was your own choice once. You see what creatures we men are. A woman like you sacrifices herself for one of us, to do him good in his adversity, and he takes it as a matter of course that the sacrifice is to continue--" Geoffrey turned to the window, and looked wearily out. From the dim corner in which she sat, Annie looked timidly at his tall figure--a true image of manliness and vigour. She could see the bronzed cheek, the full rich brown eye, the bushy beard with its mingled lines of brown and gray. There was far more strength in the face than in former days, and far more refinement, a deeper tenderness, and a loftier meaning. She thought so as she looked at him, and her heart beat hard and fast.
"It was no sacrifice to me, Geoffrey," she said in a very low tone. "You know I could not bear the life I was leading. I have been very happy here. Every one has been very good to me, and I have been very happy; but--"
Geoffrey turned abruptly, and looked at her--looked at the graceful head, the blushing cheek, the faltering lips--and went straight up to her. She shrunk just a little at his approach; but when he laid his hand upon her shoulder, and bent his head down towards hers, she raised her sweet candid face and looked at him.
"Annie," he said eagerly, with the quick earnestness of a man whose soul is in his words, "will you forgive all my mistakes,--I have found them out now,--and take the truest love that ever a man offered to the most perfect of women? Annie, can you love me?--will you stay with me? My darling, say yes!"
His strong arms were round her now, and her sleek brown head lay upon his breast. She raised it to look at him; then folded her hands and laid them upon his shoulder, and with her crystal-clear eyes uplifted, said, "I will stay with you, Geoffrey. I have always loved you."
The storm had blown itself out now--its last mutterings had died away; and through all its fury and despair, through all its rude buffets and threatening of doom, Geoffrey Ludlow had reached LAND AT LAST!