“I met the women at the door,” he said.
“It is kind of you to come,” Rosamund went on; “but, in truth, since that day on Death Creek I fear to walk a bow-shot’s length alone or in the company of women only. With you I feel safe.”
“Or with Wulf?”
“Yes; or with Wulf,” she repeated; “that is, when he is not thinking of wars and adventures far away.”
By now they had reached the porch of the church, to find that the snow was falling fast.
“Let us bide here a minute,” he said; “it is but a passing cloud.”
So they stayed there in the gloom, and for a while there was silence between them. Then he spoke.
“Rosamund, my cousin and lady, I come to put a question to you, but first—why you will understand afterwards—it is my duty to ask that you will give me no answer to that question until a full day has passed.”
“Surely, Godwin, that is easy to promise. But what is this wonderful question which may not be answered?”
“One short and simple. Will you give yourself to me in marriage, Rosamund?”