In the fulness of my transport at his ardent words, it seemed to me that heaven was come down to earth. My dreams had promised no such blessedness as this. Faintly and softly I murmured,—
"Roger, you know that I love you with all my heart."
"My darling!"
"My beloved!
Is there an hour to compare in unqualified happiness with that in which a woman of impulsive nature, ignorant of the world and blindly trusting, whispers the confidences of her innocent bosom in the ear of her accepted lover? Roger and I, alternately silent with bliss or overflowing with the rapture of the heart's language, strolled arm in arm along the moonlit shores far into the night.
Only one incident marred our content. "Virginia," said Roger suddenly, "what will your father say?"
My father! I had never thought of him. So absorbing had been the consciousness that Roger Dale loved me and I returned his love, that every other consideration was blotted from my mind.
"Not to-night. We will not talk of that to-night. Let me be happy while I can," I cried, pressing his arm with feverish fondness.
"He dislikes me then? I was sure of it," he said quietly, but there was a scowl on his face.
"He does not know you, Roger. But I will make him give his consent. He cannot refuse me anything."