"I cannot answer for the future."
"You have no faith in me?"
"You see, I shall be a helpless log, a useless invalid for twelve months or even longer," I said. "It will be a great strain on your love."
He dropped my hand and made to go away.
"Don't go," I cried.
"Do you think my love would stand the test of your being an invalid for even twenty years?"
I did not answer.
"Do you?" he said, dropping on to his knees and looking into my eyes. "Do you, Marguerite, wife?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"Thank God for that!" he said. "I was beginning to think—I was afraid you did not understand me; that you were fearful at having given yourself to me; that you did not love me, in fact, as I love you, for where there is love there is no fear." He laid his cheek to mine, murmuring, "Marguerite! Marguerite!" and so we sat till the darkness fell and nurse came in.