"And you are tired! I can see it now. But it was good of you to come to meet me here like this, Hope—sweetheart!"
"No, no! you must not talk like that!" cried the girl.
"You know I cannot help it when I am with you. I must tell you over and over that I love you—love you, Hope! Why not, when my heart sings it all the time? And have you not given me the right, dear?"
"Wait! Not now," she said more softly. "Talk about something else—anything," she gasped.
"And must I humor you, my queen," he said. "Look down and let me read in your eyes what I want to find there—then I will talk about anything, everything, until you want to hear what is in my heart!"
"Only daylight can reveal what is in my eyes," she replied. "The light of the moon is unreal, deceiving. Tell me how long you have been here, and where did you leave your horse?"
"You are evading me for some reason. If I did not believe it to be impossible, I should say that I am nervous—and that you are nervous. Can you not be yourself to me now—at this time? Why did you want me to meet you here?"
"You say you love me. Then aren't you content to just sit here in silence beside me?"
"Pardon me, dear, but my love is almost too great for silence. You will admit that." Then with a touch of amusement in his voice: "Tell me, are you angry with me that I should speak so plainly to you?"
"No, no! Of course not—only talk about something else just now. How long have you been here?"