"So that, at least, you will not appear to stoop," I repeated.
"I stoop to you?" she responded, and again she laughed.
"You know that I love you?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied, and lifted her eyes to mine, "I know that you love me."
"Beyond love I have nothing at the moment."
A light wind swept the leaves from her hand, and blew the ends of her white veil against my breast.
"And suppose," she demanded in a clear voice, "that love was all that I wanted?"
Her lashes did not tremble; but in her eyes, in her parted red lips, and in her whole swift and expectant figure, there was something noble and free, as if she were swept forward by the radiant purpose which shone in her look.
"Not my love—not yet—my darling," I said.
At the word her blush came.