[CHAPTER LX.]
OPEN CONFESSION
They had been very quiet for a long time as they sat in the rose garden looking over the park. They could see the dappled deer under the great oaks; the shadow of the fine old house lay behind. There was something very soothing and peaceful about the picture. It was Ralph who spoke presently; he had Mary's hand in his, and she did not draw it away.
"It is a pity to lose this," he said, "to know that it has gone for ever. Mary, you were better and braver far than you knew, when you turned your back on Dashwood Hall."
"Was I?" Mary asked absently. "It will always be a sadness and a sorrow to me, more from the knowledge of what I might have some day made the place than anything else. But I need not dwell on that. I have my living to get now."
"And I suppose I have mine," Ralph said. "Mary, you know what is on the tip of my tongue. Could you share that lot with me? But I know that you would; I know what your feelings are. You told me the night you came back here; you said that my prophecy had come true; that you had returned to ask my pardon on your knees. Do you regret that?"
"No," Mary said resolutely. "I do not regret it for a moment. Because it was true then, and it is truer now. It was Connie who taught me that lesson, I think. She pointed out to me what a good thing a man's love was. And when I thought that I had lost you, why, then I knew what my mind was. If I am worth the taking, Ralph----"
"My darling, you were always worth the taking," Ralph cried. "Even in the days of your pride I had dreams of the sweet Mary that would like you to love her, and behold, here she is! And you are prepared to share the lot of a poor man without even a pedigree?"
Mary swayed towards her lover, and he caught her in his eager arms. The next minute her face was hidden on his breast, happy tears rolling down her cheeks.