At length he clenched his hands, stopped short, and spoke abruptly. His voice was low, but there was an intensity in the utterance, which made her start although she had been expecting him to speak.
"Rose! will you be my wife?... Why should I try to lead up easily to what I meant to say? I am too much in earnest to be able to coin phrases."
She turned and looked at him. She did not look up shyly, but yet she was not bold. Doubt, if there had been light enough to see, or if his mind had been calm enough to observe, was the prevailing sentiment which her face betrayed. She looked, and her lips grew tense, and then she drew a heavy, deep, slow breath; and, like a sleep-walker obeying an impulse apart from common consciousness or volition, she held out her hand.
He caught it in both of his, and raised it to his lips, and clasped it as if he never would let it go; and the boiling blood went tingling through his veins in a transport of tumultuous joy, which shook his frame and made it vain for him to try to raise his voice.
She thought she heard him whisper, "Rose! My own!" and straight the tears began to gather in her eyes, and her breathing broke into a sob. She thought, she was about to give way, and covered her face with the other hand. And yet there was a stillness in her heart, as though it were some one else--a looker-on--a curious and yet an approving onlooker, but one who felt no joy at her being sought, no hope and no elation, though it bade her accept. And then a despairing pang shot through her. Was it impossible for her to love? But she would! She was resolved to love--to love this man. She had read in him that he loved her well. He was good and true; she more than liked or even respected him. She was resolved to love as fondly and as faithfully as ever woman had, if only to show----but she would not think of that--never again. The past was buried. Let it lie.
Joseph, in his own tumultuous exaltation, felt the trembling of her hand. He heard her sob. He saw her cover her face as if to hide her tears, and caught her in his arms, folding her in, and pressing her to his heart in a tender transport. To dry those tears was now his rightful privilege; and very tenderly and softly did he whisper in her ear, bidding her calm herself and have no fear, for he loved and worshipped her, and would devote his life to shelter her from care or harm.
And now the stars came out upon the night, looking down with friendly understanding eyes, like beings of a higher sphere, approving the troth-plight and bidding them be happy. They sat them down upon a broad flat rock; her hand was nestling in his palm, and her form drawn up against him within his encircling arm; and the silent peace of night, tranquil and still beneath the keeping of the kindly stars, wore in upon their agitated spirits, helping the fever in their blood to cool.
To realise that there is some one in accord, and all our own, who shares desire and hope, our present and our future, to whom the inmost thought might be revealed, if that were possible, without the conventional disguises in which we hide while we converse with one another, is a sensation of the rarest joy, but seldom known, and never known for long. To Joseph, who had lived alone in heart, it was very new and inexpressibly delightful. There were no words to image forth a tithe of what he felt. Speech failed. He held her hand, and breathed the pure delicious night in gasps of satisfaction: and it was all so still and simple; only the outlined rocks against the sky, and glimmering faint reflections of the stars on the dim water; no troubling details or petty objects, no motion but the ceaseless current of the universe, the noiseless unseen marching of the host of heaven from east to west. He and his love were the only two in all the mighty vault. For them the night was still, the air so sweet, the stars so kind and friendly. They and the universe were in company and at one in some mysterious way, and the peace of the universe flowed in upon his soul.
Rose sat in wonder at the intensity of the silence. How this man must love her! It was sweet to be so loved, but it was solemn. She felt small within his clasping arms. Her hand was laid in his, and nestled in the tender warmth of its grasp, so strong and so protecting. He had taken her for his very own, and she felt humble in the unworthiness of the self he set such store on. She felt ashamed at the inward stillness which could respond so coldly; but the feeling roused and warmed her somewhat, and she was glad of it. She had striven to win him. Honestly she had striven, if in a divided spirit, which made her blush now to think of the depth and tenderness of the love which she had won. But at least he should never have ground to suspect half-heartedness. She would compel herself to love him more; and if the reality fell short of what she felt she owed, at least the expression should not fall short in fulness. She crept closer, and strove to thaw away the numbing chill which hung about her heart, and was so stubborn to dispel. He responded with a tightening clasp against the strong warm throbbing of his breast, till she vibrated with the pulses of his perfect love. She looked out across the sea, and vowed to be more than he had hoped or dreamed, and felt still and strengthened by the peace spread out around her. And so they sat, together, and yet so far apart in feeling; and time went by without their taking heed.
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