"Why, Richard, you make me fear that something is seriously wrong," I cried in sudden alarm, for my sense of oneness with him had grown so amazingly since those months between the time of my visit to Charlotteville and then, and I felt as entirely identified with his interests as if we were already married. His attitude toward me at the breakfast-table the morning after Alfred's departure was a key-note to the manner in which he strove every day after that to cement this relation; and I know now that this was an immense factor in causing me to allow the engagement to exist through those days of doubt. I had always felt that an engagement was very nearly as binding as a marriage—and Richard had always exercised such a charming right of possession.
"Something is seriously wrong, Ann," he said gravely, and his eyes held mine in a sort of fascinated wonder; "and I expect you to stand by me."
His manner was very grave; and he seemed to be in a serious doubt as to whether or not I would stand by him.
"Tell me about it," I suggested as patiently as I could, for I was trembling with uneasy eagerness.
"Give me your hand and swear that you will stick to me."
"Oh, sweetheart, I'll stick to you if you're a horse-thief," I said, trying to force a laugh.
"Then listen! You know that I want to be governor of this state—"
I nodded my head.
"—And the temperance party is about to go back on me because they think that Major Blake and I are going to form a separate faction and leave out the liquor question."
"Yes, I know."