She started and looked up half-entreatingly into his face, but said nothing, for at that moment Walter came running up to them.
“Cousin Arthur,” he said, “I placed the stools about where you usually sit, I think; but if they are not just where you want them, they are easily moved.”
“Yes; thank you,” replied the doctor, and Walter ran on to the house.
He seated Marian comfortably, then took the chair beside her.
“Must you go very soon?” she asked, trying to swallow a lump in her throat.
“I am afraid I must, on account of the other patients, though it seems decidedly hard for me to leave this delightful spot and pleasant company.”
“Yes, sir; and I really think you ought to have a longer rest after working so hard and long. I—I am afraid I have been a great deal of trouble and the cause of much weariness. And—and I can never begin to pay you for it all.”
“O Marian, dear girl, you can far more than repay me if—if only you can find it in your heart to love and trust me well enough to give your dear self into my care for the rest of our two lives,” he said in low, eager tones, bending over her and taking her hand in his.
She did not withdraw it, but neither did she speak, but bending low to catch sight of her face, he saw that her tears were falling fast.