She was as innocent as a babe over many things, poor Little Nobody!
And, to do Van Zandt justice, he revolted at the thought of taking her, as it seemed, willy-nilly; but the world, the great wicked world, left him, as Carmontelle said, no other way.
"I should have liked to woo and win my bride in the sweet old fashion," he thought, regretfully; then, with a new idea: "And what is there to hinder? The words of the marriage service will be almost meaningless terms to her untutored mind. I will take no advantage of the claims it will give me. I will hold her as sacred as an angel until I shall win her heart as well as her hand. At home I will place her in the school-room with my sisters. She shall have culture equal to her beauty, and I will work for her and worship her in silence until the child becomes a woman and her heart awakes from sleep."
The very next day he said to her gently:
"Ma'amselle Marie, I shall be going home to Boston in two more days."
She cried out regretfully:
"Oh, I am sorry; I am afraid I shall never see you any more!"
"Will you go with me, dear, and be my little wife?"
"I will go with you, yes; but—your wife—I do not understand," she said, in a puzzled tone, just as he had expected she would.
"You would live with me always," he began. "You would belong to me, you would bear my name, you would do as I wished you, perhaps, and—"