“It is with joy—my heart is so happy that tears gush out in spite of me!”
“Will you then be mine?” continued Glenn, winding his arm round her yielding waist.
“Forever!” she replied, and, bowing her head slightly, a shower of dark silken tresses obscured her blushing face, and covered our hero’s panting breast. Thus they remained many moments in silence, for their feelings were too blissful for utterance.
“Are you always happy, Mary?” said Glenn, at length, taking her little white hand in his.
“No!” she replied, with a sigh.
“Why?”
“When you are away, I sometimes fear the Indians—or a snake—or—or something may harm you,” said she, falteringly.
“I thank thee, Mary, for thinking of me when I am away.”
“I always think of thee!” said she.
“Always, Mary?”