It was strange to see how his fond eyes brought the colour in her cheeks. She smiled, but yet it was a saddened smile.
“I am grateful,” she repeated, “for your kindness, but you have failed to convince me that an alliance between us will be what is termed a fitting match. Your father——”
“Lotte! Lotte!” he interposed, “only answer me this. Could you be happy with me as my wife, irrespective of the considerations you suggest?”
She hesitated to answer, and cast her eyes upon the ground.
Once more he stole his arm about her waist, and bent his lips to her ear.
“Answer, Lotte, dearest; do not be cold or cruel to me. Could you be happy, if you were my wife?”
She turned her eyes full of tenderness upon his, and in the rich tones of a fall heart said—
“I could, indeed, Mark; in truth I could.”
“And love me, Lotte?”
“And love you, Mark; fondly, tenderly, dearly—very, very dearly.”