His day dream was indeed coming true: alone with Molly Brown in the great, deep, silent forest, his love spoken at last and Molly actually confessing that she cared for him. That eminent instructor of English at Wellington College found when the time came to express himself that all his knowledge of words was as naught, and the only English he had at his command was: "I love you, do you love me?" and "I have loved you since the day in your Freshman year when you got locked in the corridor. How long have you loved me, if you do really love me?"
They finally resumed their walk, but now they went hand in hand. How much there was to talk about, how many things to explain!
"And will you be willing to spend the summers in your orchard home with me? I have always called it 'Molly's Orchard Home' in my mind."
"I can think of no place in the world where I'd rather spend the summers. Would I not be near all of my people? I am so glad you asked my advice about the bungalow! Now the doors open the way I want them to; and the cellar has an outside entrance; and the guest chamber has those extra inches on it, besides the nice big closet; and the attic steps are big enough to get a trunk up. Did you really and truly think it was going to be my home when you were planning it?"
"I could only hope and hope and plan and dream. For almost six years I have known that it was you or nobody for me. Ever since you came to Wellington, a slip of a girl, it has been all I could do to keep from claiming you. You were too young. I knew it would not be fair to try to tie you to an old dry-as-dust like me until you had seen the world a little. But oh, how hard it has been not to speak out all that was in my heart! And when I thought I had lost you, first to Jimmy Lufton, then to your cousin, Philippe d'Ochtè, life was very bitter, and I looked forward to years of misery and longing."
"'Way down in my heart of hearts," confessed Molly, "I knew that you cared, and the knowledge of it kept me from thinking seriously of any other man. It was awfully conceited of me to feel that way when you have never given me any real reason for it. At least, you had never written or spoken your love; but the language that is neither written nor spoken is understood by the heart, and my heart told me you loved me when my intelligence would have me understand that you did not."
"Bless your sweet heart for understanding me and speaking a good word for me! I wish my heart could have done as much for me. I could not see how you could care for me, and still I hoped and prayed. And now what is to prevent our being married right now and spending our honeymoon abroad?"
"Well, it seems to me that a young man who could possess his soul in patience for six years to find out his fate, might wait a while longer now that he knows his answer," teased Molly.
"But all my patience is gone, used up, worn out! I want you all the time to make up for this terrible nightmare of a winter that I have passed through. What is to prevent our getting married, if you really and truly care for me? Oh, Molly, be good to me! I could not stand it if the ocean separated us again!"
And Molly was good to this extent; she said: "Let's see what mother says about it."