He bent his ear.
"My beloved?"
"Hold me, the bed is going down. My head is so low."
He caught her passionately, his kisses falling distractedly upon her eyes, her lips, the lace upon her breast, and her cold hands.
"And you do love me?"
"Love you?" he answered, fiercely. "Have I ever loved anything else? O my love! My love!"
His tears stung her face like fire.
"Don't," she said, gently; and then, "It would have been very nice, the little farm in the South, and the peaches, and the cows in the pastures, but," she smiled, "I am not very thrifty—the peaches would have rotted where they fell, and the cows would never have been milked."
"Mariana!"
She lay in his arms, and they were both silent.