She took my hand in hers and clasped it to her bosom.
‘Rich enough for a queen!’ she said, with a lift in her breathing that was more eloquent than words. ‘Anne, my brave Anne! I would be glad to be your maidservant; I could envy that boy Rowley. But, no!’ she broke off, ‘I envy no one—I need not—I am yours.’
‘Mine,’ said I, ‘for ever! By this and this, mine!’
‘All of me,’ she repeated. ‘Altogether and forever!’
And if the god were envious, he must have seen with mortification how little he could do to mar the happiness of mortals. I stood in a mere waterspout; she herself was wet, not from my embrace only, but from the splashing of the storm. The candles had guttered out; we were in darkness. I could scarce see anything but the shining of her eyes in the dark room. To her I must have appeared as a silhouette, haloed by rain and the spouting of the ancient Gothic gutter above my head.
Presently we became more calm and confidential; and when that squall, which proved to be the last of the storm, had blown by, fell into a talk of ways and means. It seemed she knew Mr. Robbie, to whom I had been so slenderly accredited by Romaine—was even invited to his house for the evening of Monday, and gave me a sketch of the old gentleman’s character which implied a great deal of penetration in herself, and proved of great use to me in the immediate sequel. It seemed he was an enthusiastic antiquary, and in particular a fanatic of heraldry. I heard it with delight, for I was myself, thanks to M. de Culemberg, fairly grounded in that science, and acquainted with the blazons of most families of note in Europe. And I had made up my mind—even as she spoke, it was my fixed determination, though I was a hundred miles from saying it—to meet Flora on Monday night as a fellow-guest in Mr. Robbie’s house.
I gave her my money—it was, of course, only paper I had brought. I gave it her, to be her marriage-portion, I declared.
‘Not so bad a marriage-portion for a private soldier,’ I told her, laughing, as I passed it through the bars.
‘O, Anne, and where am I to keep it?’ she cried. ‘If my aunt should find it! What would I say!’
‘Next your heart,’ I suggested.