“Friendship is not enough,” he said, eagerly; “that was for childish days, but now—now—it is death to me to be without you. I am yours, body and soul. Give me hope, Hilary; give me hope!”
She raised her head and looked into his eager, hazel eyes, reading there the utter devotion of a first genuine passion, “I give you my heart,” she said in a voice so soft that the words seemed more breathed than spoken, and the robin which had been the sole spectator of this love scene ventured a little nearer, even as she spoke, only taking flight when Gabriel caught her in his arms for what seemed the first kiss he had ever given her, so strangely did it differ from the careless salute of their childhood.
The robin sang overhead now, and sang so blithely that even the happy lovers gave heed to the song.
“’Tis the sweetest I ever heard,” said Hilary. “Or is it that all things seem more beautiful because of love?”
“That must be it. Hitherto we have but dreamed; now we are awake, and this is the joy that lasts.”
So they lived through that exquisite dawn of love, and their bliss knew no alloy until the ruthless groom strode into the wood.
“I ha’ tethered the horses to the gibbet, sir,” he said to Gabriel, “and ha’ come to tell ye that the doctor is in sight.”
The lovers started to their feet. Suddenly to see Simon’s uncomprehending face; suddenly to hear the ill-omened word “gibbet,” roused them roughly enough from their paradise. They hurriedly left the little wood, not once even looking back, for was not Simon tramping heavily behind them, driving them forth into the thorns and thistles of the world just as effectually as if he had been the angel with the flaming sword!