"When the proper time comes, dearest love, she shall know, and the world shall behold my beautiful bride. But until then, you must have confidence in me, and wait."
"But, oh! I have such a presentiment of what may follow, Willard—such a cloud seems to enshroud this secret marriage, that my very soul shrinks from it in fear."
"Christie," he said, drawing back, and speaking in a deeply offended tone, "you do not love me!"
She raised her bright, beautiful eyes, so full of love and devotion, but did not speak. No words could have told such a tale of perfect, intense love, as did that quick, eloquent glance.
"You do not love me," he went on, in the same deeply hurt tone; "you have no confidence in me, no trust, no faith. I have given you my reasons, good and valid to any one else, but of no avail with you. If you cared for me, you would be content to wait, with perfect trust in my love; but I see you will not trust me. Be it so; there remains nothing for me but to leave you forever."
"Oh, Willard!" was all she could say, as her voice was choked in tears.
"I thought I had found an artless, loving, trusting girl," he went on, with increased bitterness; "but I have found one who will not yield in the slightest iota, lest she should compromise herself in the eyes of the world, who fears what it will say of her more than she loves me! Farewell, Christie! we have met for the last time. Since you care for your aunt more than for me, I leave you to her."
He arose, coldly and haughtily, to go.
"Oh, Willard! do not leave me!" was her passionate cry. "I will do anything, be anything you ask, only do not leave me in anger!"
"Will you be my wife?"