“You must not be angry with me, Miss Thorn,” he began, “you must not think I am losing my head. Let me tell you now–perhaps you will listen to me. God knows, I am not worthy to say such things to you, but I will try to be. It is soon said. I love you; I can no more help loving you than I can help breathing. You have utterly changed me, and saved me, and made a life for me out of what was not life at all. Do not think it is sudden–what is really to last forever must take some time in growing. I never knew till to-day-I honored you and would have done everything in the world for you, and I was more grateful to you than I ever was to any human being. But I thought when we met we should be friends just as we always were, and instead of that I know that this is the great day of my life, and that my life with all that it holds is yours now, for always, to do with as you will. Pray hear me out, do not be afraid; no man ever honored you as I honor you.”
Joe glanced quickly at him and then again looked down; but the surging blood came and went in her face, coursing madly in her pulses, every beat of her heart crying gladness.
“It is little enough I have to offer you,” said John, his voice growing unsteady in the great effort to speak calmly. There was something almost terrible in the strength of his rising passion. “It is little enough–my poor life, with its wretched struggles after what is perhaps far too great for me. But such as it is I offer it to you. Take it if you will. Be my wife, and give me the right to do all I do for your sake, and for your sake only.” He stretched out his hand and took hers, very gently, but the strained sinews of his wrist trembled violently. Josephine made no resistance, but she still looked down and said nothing.
“Use me as you will,” he continued almost in a whisper. “I will be all to you that man ever was to a living woman. Do not say I have no right to ask you for as much. I have this right, that I love you beyond the love of other men, so truly and wholly I love you; I will serve you so faithfully, I will honor you so loyally that you will love me too. Say the word, my beloved, say that it is not impossible! I will wait–I will work–I will strive to be worthy of you.” He pressed his white lips to her white hand, and tried to look into her eyes, but she turned away from him. “Will you not speak to me? Will you not give to me some word–some hope? I can never love you less, whatever you may answer me–yes or no–but oh, if you knew the difference to me!”
Pale as death, John looked at Joe. She turned to him, very white, and gazed into the dark gray depths of his eyes, where the raging force of a transcendent passion played so wildly; but she felt no fear, only a mad longing to speak.
“Tell me–for God’s sake tell me,” John said in low, trembling tones, “have I hurt you? Is it too much that I ask?”
For one moment there was silence as they gazed at each other. Then with a passionate impulse Josephine buried her face in her hands upon John’s shoulder.
“No, it is not that!” she sobbed. “I love you so much–I have loved you so long!”
Chapter XXIII.
John Harrington and Josephine Thorn were married in the autumn of that year, and six months later John was elected to the Senate. With characteristic patience he determined to await a favorable opportunity before speaking at any length in the Capitol. He loved his new life, and the instinct to take a leading part was strong in him, but he knew too well the importance of the first impression made by a long speech to thrust himself forward until the right moment came.