“He being myself?” I asked, looking at her with a smile.
“He being yourself. There, I have made enough unladylike confessions for one afternoon; but ‘tis all a proof of my trust and confidence in you.”
“As God shall help me it is not misplaced,” and I lifted her hand tenderly to my lips. “Never was man as proud of as beautiful and pure a love as I am of yours, and never was a love guarded and cherished as I will yours, and I will seek no higher happiness on earth than to keep that dear brow as bright and beautiful as now. Darling, look into my eyes and read the truth of love.”
She looked, and would have read, perhaps, had not the door opened just then, and mother entered from her shopping excursion. As she saw us sitting lovingly together, Carlotta’s hand in mine, she was so utterly astounded that she stood without moving, her hands full of bundles, which kept dropping on the floor.
To prevent further embarrassment, I rose from my seat, and taking mother’s hand, led her to Carlotta.
“She is going to be my wife, mother,” I said, and without waiting to hear her reply, left the room.
How bright and beautiful all nature seemed. The cloudless sky, the rich green foliage, and the fragrant roses scenting the evening air—all were in unison with my heart. The very birds in the lawn seemed to twitter congratulations. Nothing could have ruffled my temper; a bootblack might have thrown his brush in my face, and I would have picked it up for him with a smile. I felt that I could even be kind and courteous to Miss Finnock.
In this pleasant frame of mind I went in to tea, and found the two gentlemen and Mrs. Marshman at our table, Mrs. M., after inquiries about Carlotta, and some compliments to her beauty, thought of a note for me, from Miss Finnock; and, as she gave it to me, said that Sappho had been quite indisposed all day, and had suffered severely from her fright, and the shock of the cold water.
Excusing myself, I opened the little three cornered note, and read: