Jean Charost led her toward a seat, and as she trembled still, and he feared she would fall, he put his arm around her waist, merely to support her. It had been there a thousand times before, in years long past, when she had stood by his side or sat upon his knee; but the touch was different now to both of them. It made his heart thrill and beat; it made hers nearly stop altogether.
She was so pale, he thought she would faint; and instinct prompted that the safest way was that of the proverb--to speak true words in jest. So, in a gay tone, he said, as he seated himself beside her, still holding his arm round her waist, "Well, I'll tell you, dearest Agnes, how it shall be. When you have refused some half a dozen other soldiers, you shall marry Jean Charost; and I will give you leave to love as much as you like, and to tremble as little as possible."
Agnes suddenly raised her eyes to his face with a look of earnest inquiry, and then her cheek became covered with crimson, and she leaned her head upon his bosom.
She said nothing, however, and he asked, in a low and gentle tone, "Shall it be so, dearest Agnes?"
"No," she answered, wiping away some tears. "I do not wish to refuse any one else."
"Ah, then I must make haste," said Jean Charost, "for fear you should accept any one else. Will you be my wife, my own sweetest love?"
Again she answered not; but her small, soft fingers pressed gently on his hand.
"Nay, but I must have a word," said Jean Charost, drawing her closer to him; "but one word, dear girl. That little hand can not speak so clearly as those dear lips."
"Oh, do not tease me," said Agnes, raising her head for a moment, and taking a glance at his face. "I hardly know whether you are bantering me or not."
"Bantering you!" said Jean Charost, in a graver tone. "No, no, my love. I am not one to banter with your happiness or my own; and mine, at least, is staked upon this issue. For all that the world contains of joyful or of fortunate, I would not peril yours, Agnes. For this, when Monsieur De Brives sought your hand, I hid my love for you in my own heart, lest ancient regard and youthful fondness for an old dear friend, should bias your judgment toward one unsuited to you. For this, I would fain have let you see a little more of life before I bound you by any tie to one much older than yourself. But I can refrain no longer, Agnes; and, having spoken, I must know my fate. Will you be mine, sweet love?"