She raised her eyes and meet his fixed full and tenderly on hers.
"Cora, I think that you and I have understood each other a long time, too long a time for the reserve we have practiced. My dear, will you now share the poverty of a poor man who loves you with all his heart, or will you wait for that man until he shall have made a home and position more worthy of you? Speak, my love, or if you prefer, take some time to think of this. My fate is in your hands."
These were calm words, uttered with much, very much, self-restraint; yet eyes and voice could not be so perfectly controlled as language was, and these spoke eloquently of the man's adoration of the woman.
She put her hand in his large, rough palm—the palm inherited from many generations of hard workers—where it lay like a white kernel in a brown shell, and she answered quietly, with controlled emotion:
"Rule, I would rather come to you now forever, and share your life, however hard, and help your work, however difficult, than part from you again; or, if this happiness is not for us now, I would wait for years—I would wait for you forever."
"God bless you! God bless you, my dear! my dear! But is not this in your own choice, Cora?"
"No; it is in my grandfather's."
"You are of age, dear."
"Yes. But not because I am of age would I disobey his will. He has always done his duty by me faithfully. I must do mine by him. He is old now. I must not oppose him. He may consent to our union at once, for you are a very great favorite with him. But his will must be consulted."
"Of course, dear. I meant to speak to Mr. Rockharrt after speaking to you."