"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," and then he held out his thin, brown hand; they had reached his door.
"In all cases you have my good wishes, my son, for you seem worthy of her—my good wishes and my prayers."
Lord Fordyce mounted the stairs to his lady's sitting-room with lagging steps. The Père Anselme's advice had caused him to think deeply, and it was necessary that he had speech with Sabine, if she would let him come back into her sitting-room. He knocked at the door softly, as was his way, and when her voice said "Entrez" rather impatiently he did enter and advance with diffidence. She was sitting with her back to the light in one of the great window embrasures, so that he could not see the expression upon her face—and her tone became gentle as she welcomed him.
"The evening is so glorious, come and watch the sunset; but there is a little look of thunder there in the far west—to-morrow we may have a storm."
Henry sat down beside her on the orange velvet seat—and his eyes, full of love and tenderness, sought her face beseechingly.
"I shall simply hate going the day after to-morrow, dearest," he said. "If it were not for the sternest duty to my mother, I would ask you to keep me until Friday—it will be such pain to tear myself away."
"You have been dear," she answered very low. "You have shown me what real love in a man means—what tenderness and courtesy can make of life. Henry—however wayward I may be, you will bear with me, will you not? I want to be good and happy—" Her sweet voice, with its faintly French accent, was full of pathos as a child's might be who is asking for comfort and sympathy for some threatened hurt. "Oh! I want to be in the sure shelter of your love always, so that storms like that one coming up over there cannot touch me. I want you to make me forget—everything."
He was so deeply moved, tears sprang to his eyes—as he bent and kissed her hands with reverence.
"My darling—you shall indeed be worshipped and protected and kept from all clouds—only first tell me, Sabine, straight from your heart, do you really and truly desire to marry me? I do not ask you to tell me that you love me yet, because I know that you do not—but I want to know the truth. If you have a single doubt whether it is for your happiness, tell it to me—let there be no uncertainties between us—my dear love——"
She was silent for a moment, while his tenderness seemed to be pouring balm upon her troubled spirit.