“You are mine, darling—I have won you by the mighty power of my silent, magnetic love, and you will be my wife?”
She lifted her head, which had been resting against his bosom, quickly at these last words, and said, with drooping lashes and quivering lips:
“Mr. Dredmond, you have taken me by storm.”
“Yes, and I mean to hold you,” he interrupted, gayly, as he noticed her excessive embarrassment; then added, more earnestly: “Brownie, do you, can you love me?”
She smiled faintly at his first words, then with modest frankness gave him the honest answer which she knew was his due.
“If I am truthful, I must confess that my heart does respond to yours; but knowing so little of you, I should have deemed it unmaidenly to have confessed it, even to myself.”
“But you do confess it now—you do love me?” he interrupted again, and impatient for a more definite reply.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And you will be my wife?” he asked, as his lips met hers.
“Yes, God willing,” in tones of solemn sweetness.