He drew her close to his wildly bounding heart and laid her head upon his breast.
“My own darling! that means that you love me even as I love you! Oh, Gladys, how I have longed to hear this confession from your lips, and yet I have never dared to betray the affection that has become a part of my very life.”
“Haven’t you, Geoff?” Gladys asked, a mischievous smile wreathing her red lips, which, however, he could not see.
“No; for I felt that it would not be right to do so. I feared that Uncle August would feel that I had betrayed his confidence, and taken an unfair advantage of his kindness. Besides, it galled me to feel that I had nothing to offer you save my nameless self, without any definite expectations for the future.”
“You imagine that you have been exceedingly circumspect, don’t you, dear?” and now a pair of merry eyes were raised to meet his.
“Have I not? Have you suspected anything of this before, Gladys?” he asked, quickly, a vivid crimson suffusing his face.
“I shall have to confess that I have—in a measure,” she replied.
“When? What made you?”
“Just before you went to college, when you told me that you were glad you had been cast adrift upon the world.”
“I remember—when I said but for that I should never have known you. It was very hard for me, then, not to tell you how well I loved you, but I believed I did conceal it. Did it trouble you, Gladys?”