She stopped short, with the colour flushing to her cheeks, and her heart beating heavily, for Clive gently took her hand. His voice was very low, and there, in the soft darkness of the autumnal evening, he said earnestly—
“Miss Gurdon—Dinah—I have dared to tell your father that I love you with all my heart, and begged him to let me speak to you. Not as a dramatic lover, but as an earnest man, who would have but one thought, dear, if you gave him the right, to make your life peaceful and happy to the end. Dinah—my own love—can you give me that right?”
Her hand struggled in its prison for a moment, and then lay trembling there, as if too firmly held by the strong fingers which formed its cage.
“I—I fear—I ought not—I—”
She faltered these words painfully; and then, with an hysterical cry, she nestled to him.
“Yes, yes,” she cried; “take me, and protect me, Clive. I do love you, and will love you to the end.”
“My darling!” he whispered, as he clasped her passionately to his heart, just as the dog burst out into a furious volley of growls and barks, mingled with sounds as if he were struggling hard to tear away his chain.
Dinah nestled to him more closely, and the start she had given at the dog’s barking gave place to a feeling of safety in those two strong arms.
“Are you content, sir?” said Clive, turning at last, as he drew Dinah’s arm through his with a sense of possession which made his heart beat against it heavily.
But there was no reply, for the Major had gone off to see what had alarmed the dog.