She attempted to draw her hand away, but he bent his head, and kissed the warm palm. Margeret who was lighting an extinguished lantern, saw the caress and heard the low, deep tones. She turned and retraced her steps instead of passing them.
“Do you realize that all who run may read the subject of your discourse?” she asked, raising her brows and glancing after the retreating woman.
“Let them, the sooner they hear it the better I shall be pleased; come, let us tell my mother; I want to be sure of you this time, my beautiful Judithe. What time more fitting than this for the announcement––come!”
“What is it you would tell her?” she asked, looking straight ahead of her into the shadows on the lawn. Her voice sounded less musical than it had a moment before. Her eyes avoided his, and for one unguarded instant the full sculpturesque lips were tense and rigid.
“What is it?” he repeated, “why, that I adore you! that you have been the one woman in the world to me ever since I met you first; that I want you for my wife, and that you––confess it again in words, Judithe––that you love me.”
She shook her head slowly, but accompanied that half denial with a bewildering smile.
“Entirely too much to announce in one evening,” she decided; “do you forget they have had other plans for you? We must give your family more time to grow accustomed to me and to––your wishes.”
“Our wishes,” he said, correctively, and she dropped her 324 eyes and bent her head in assent. She was adorable in the final surrender. He murmured endearing, caressing words to her, and the warm color merged across her face, and receding, left her a trifle pale. All her indifference had been a pretense––he knew it now, and it strengthened his protests against delay. He drew her away from the steps as the dance ended, and the people came chattering and laughing out from the brilliantly lit rooms.
“You talk of haste, but forget that I have waited three years, Judithe; remember that, won’t you? Put that three years to my credit; consider that I wooed you every day of every year, and I would if I had been given the chance! You talk of time as if there were oceans of it for us, and you forget that I have but one more day to be with you––one day; and then separation, uncertainty. I can’t leave you like that, now that I know you care for me––I won’t.”
“Oh––h!” and she met his look with a little quizzical smile. “You mean to resign your commission for the sake of my society? But I am not sure I should admire you so much then. I am barbarian enough to like a fighter.”