"I am so tired," she said suddenly; "I am the sort of girl who wants sunshine, I am so tired of being without it."
"When you talk in that metaphorical style I fail to understand you," said Quentyns. "There's not the least cloud between us that I am aware of, and if you are not in the sunshine, Hilda, I am afraid it is your own fault. I have done everything in my power to meet your wishes. You profess great love for me, and great love for your sister, and now you have us both, what can you possibly want besides?"
"Only your forgiveness, your complete and full forgiveness."
"I have nothing to forgive, my dear. You do your best—no one can do better than their best."
"No," said poor Hilda, with a sigh. She did not add any more.
"I trust you are not going to turn into a fanciful sort of woman," said Quentyns, half an hour later. "If there's a person in the world who irritates me it's a woman with whims, a woman who has a grievance."
"Oh, no, Jasper! I won't have a grievance," she replied humbly.
CHAPTER XV.
THREE IS TRUMPERY.
The crown must be won for Heaven, dear,
In the battle-field of life:
My child, though thy foes are strong and tried,
He loveth the weak and small;
The Angels of Heaven are on thy side,
And God is over all!