"You know, dear," said she, "what we have done is not right—at least"—She stopped suddenly.
"Who says it is not right?" asked Julius, with a touch of scorn in his voice.
"Oh, everybody says so, of course; but that makes no difference. Nobody would understand. It is not what people say. It is the thing." She stared out into the woods as she leaned against him.
"How do you mean, sweetheart?" he asked.
"It is not right, you know. I am sure of it." She shook her head gently, without lifting it. "It is all my fault," she added.
"You shall not say that, my own one," said Julius, passionately. He was really grieved and troubled beyond measure.
"Ah—but I know it so well," said she. "You must help me to make it right—quite right."
"It is right—it shall be right! I will make it so," he answered. "Only trust me, darling, and you shall be the happiest woman the world holds, as you are the best. God bless you, dear one." He kissed her tenderly, but she tried to turn away from him.
"Oh, no, Julius—God will not bless me. I have only you left now. You must be everything to me. Will you, dear? Say you will!"
"I do say it, my own darling," he answered fervently. "I will be everything to you, now and forever and ever."