“And, Justin, nothing must ever be said about it! It would ruin Ben; it might even put him in prison. I needn’t have told you; but I wanted to, and I know you won’t say anything about it.”
Justin did not stop to think whether this were right or wrong. He gave the promise instantly.
They began to talk of other things. She seemed not to want to say anything more on the disagreeable subject; and Justin was glad to have her talk of herself, of her school life, and her Eastern experiences. Somehow the old sense of intimacy had in a measure departed. He withdrew his hand from about her waist, that was still slender and girlish. She had been removed to a great distance from him, it seemed. Yet, outwardly, she had not changed, except for the better. She was more womanly, more gracious, now that her tears had been shed and her thoughts had turned into other channels, even than in the old days. Nevertheless, Justin could not at once summon courage to say to her the old sweet nothings in which both had delighted.
“You are still my sweetheart?” he ventured timidly, by and by. “The East hasn’t changed you any in that respect, I hope?”
She looked at him earnestly, and her eyes grew luminous.
“No, Justin, not in the least; but there is one thing, which has come to me while I was away. We aren’t children any longer.”
“I am well aware of that fact,” he said; “I have been painfully aware of it, all evening.”
She knew what he meant.
“We aren’t children any longer; you are a man now, and I am a woman. I heard a sermon the other Sunday, from those verses in which Paul said he had put away childish things and no longer acted or thought as a child. Long ago I told you that I loved you, and promised to marry you some time; I haven’t forgot that.”
“I shall never forget it!”