Her hands were in his now, and her long lashes were cast down, during a little pause that ensued, and he could see her soft bosom heaving under her dress.
Then she looked up with a coy, shy smile of great brightness, as she asked:
'Am I the first you have loved—the very first?'
'Fancies I have had—as what lad has not—but I never loved till now, Mary,' he replied, with great tenderness, 'unless it was the love I bore my poor mother, who is now in her grave.'
'I am so confused—so startled, Mr. Falconer.'
'Do say "Cecil," I implore you!'
'Well, then—Cecil.'
No need to say more just then, as their lips met, passionately for an instant, and Cecil felt that she was his own. Then Mary shrank back a little, and blushing deeply, said:
'Oh, what would Sir Piers say if he knew of this?'
There was something of terror in her tone—alarm, at least, as Cecil thought.