“I think they'll tell you the reason,” she answered. “No, John, no! we mustn't think of it. You can see we mustn't. This has all been a mistake, a dreadful mistake, and I am to blame for it.”
“The only mistake has been our meeting in this way. We should have met openly; I realize it, and have felt it for sometime. It was my fault, not yours. I was afraid, I guess. But I'll not be a coward any longer. Come, dear, let's not be afraid another day. Only say you'll marry me and I'll proclaim it openly, to-night—Yes, from the pulpit, if you say so.”
She hesitated and he took courage from her hesitation.
“Say it,” he pleaded. “You WILL say it?”
“I can't! I can't! My uncle—”
“Your uncle shall hear it from me. We'll go to him together. I'll tell him myself. He worships you.”
“Yes, I know. He does worship me. That's why I am sure he had rather see me dead than married to you, a Regular, and a Regular minister.”
“I don't believe it. He can't be so unreasonable. If he is, then you shouldn't humor such bigotry.”
“He has been my father for years, and a dear, kind father.”
“I know. That's why I'm so certain we can make him understand. Come, dear! come! Why should you consider everyone else? Consider your own happiness. Consider mine.”