"God, 'tis marvellous!" said he at last, holding her away to feast his eyes on her glowing loveliness. "'Tis passing wonderful that of all your throng of lovers you should choose such as I—so much older, so much——" his breath caught, the strong hands that clasped her so tenderly quivered suddenly. "Betty," said he hoarsely, "'tis no coquettish whim, this—no youthful fancy? You do love me indeed?" Now seeing the haggard pleading of his eyes, the quiver of his lips and all his shy humility, she uttered a soft cry and drawing him close, pillowed his troubled brow against her soft cheek.
"Ah dearest," she whispered, "why must you doubt? Love for you hath been in my heart from the first I think, though I never guessed 'twas love until to-day. And for your age—O foolish! I would not have thee younger by an hour and—for my love, 'tis here deep within my heart and will but grow with length of days for to know thee more is to love thee more. You think me over-young, I know, light-thoughted, belike and careless, but in her heart a woman is ever older than a man, and, despite my seeming heedlessness your Betty is methinks much the woman you would have her be."
"Aye, truly," he answered, "the sweetest, the loveliest, noblest woman, I do think, in all this big world!" But when he would have caught her to him again she, blushing, laughing, stayed him to straighten lacy mob-cap and pat rebellious curls with hands a little tremulous, then, sitting down, crossed slim feet demurely and motioned him beside her.
"'Deed, sir," she sighed, "you do make love to perfection! And yet—your love is so—so wonderful that I grow a little fearful lest I prove unworthy——"
"Ah, never!" he cried, drawing her hands to his lips.
"Such love doth make me very humble, Jack dear, 'tis all so different, so reverent and yet also 'tis a little—fierce!" she whispered, yielding to his compelling arms.
"Nay, am I so?" he asked, anxiously, his hold relaxing.
"Ele-mentally!" she murmured, pillowing cheek on plum-coloured velvet regardless of lace cap. "Yet methinks I do—love such ferocity!"
"O Betty, when will you wed me?"
"O John, here is a question to ponder. First, when would you have me?"