“I was in earnest,” said he.
“How?” she asked, glancing up from her work.
“When I proposed altering the course. Nothing would please me more than to spoil a plan of my own to please you.”
“It is good of you to say that,” she replied, “all the same I am glad I did not spoil your plan, not so much for your sake as my own.”
“How?”
“I would rather die than run away from danger.”
“No, I did not fear it, but I felt it. I felt a premonition of danger. I did not say so at dinner. I did not want to alarm the others.”
He looked at her curiously for a moment, contrasting her fragility and beauty with the something unbendable that was her spirit, her soul—call it what you will.
“Well,” said he, “your slightest wish is my law. I have been going to speak to you for the last few days. I will say what I want to say now. It is only four words. Will you marry me?”