“O–oh, Frank!” she exclaimed.
“Ever since I first saw you in church, so many long months ago, Min, I have thought of you, dreamt of you, loved you!”—I proceeded, passionately.—“O, my darling! my darling! won’t you try and like me a little; or, have I been deceived in thinking that you could care for me?”
“I do like you, Frank,” she said, softly, laying her little hand on my arm.
I seized it in transport, and put it within my arm proudly.
“Sweet!” I said, “liking alone will not do for me! You must learn to love me, darling, as I love you! Will it be very hard?”
“I don’t know, Frank, I can try,” she said, demurely; looking up at me with her deep, grey eyes, which, now suffused with a tender love-light, had a greater charm for me than ever.
I felt as if I were walking on air!
After a little pause, during which we both walked on slowly, I too happy to speak, Min squeezed my arm.
“Do you then love me so very much, Frank?” she said; and, there was a wistful look in her eyes, an earnest pathos in her voice, that touched me to the heart.
“Love you, Min? I adore you! I dote on you! I worship the very ground you walk on; and, if you were cruel to me, I think I would die to-morrow!”