“No?” she rejoined, in a tone of inquiry and with some little surprise.
“No?” he answered; and then added, with ardent warmth, “it is useless to disguise the true state of my feelings towards you. I love you, Lotte—I love you passionately, truthfully, and devotedly. I——”
He seemed for the moment as though the intensity of his feelings would choke him.
Lotte fell back a step, and the colour fled from her cheek. All in the room appeared to become dim to her eyes, and Mark’s form to grow hazy and indistinct.
He fell upon one knee before her, and caught her hand.
“Oh, Lotte!” he cried, “you can now understand how my heart was rent asunder when I came here, hopeful to gain your heart, and found you, as I believed, in the possession of another.”
“Pray rise, Mr. Wilton. Do not kneel to me; you distress me—indeed, indeed you do!” she exclaimed in a low tone, the last word becoming inaudible.
Mark rose up. He saw that she appeared faint and seemed tottering. It is not wonderful that he should slide gently his arm around that small waist, which never had been lovingly encircled by the arm of man before.
She was faint and full of tears, so the arm remained where it had been placed; and, somehow, her head rested upon his breast, while large glittering drops fell from her eyes to the ground.
Oh, the bliss of that moment! Never before in her life had she experienced any emotion equalling that exquisite felicity.