"Yes," said Agnes, smiling; "but Thelma's charms had not faded, nor even begun to decline. Her simile was inapt as applied to herself."
"Exactly! It was her heart, and not her head that gave birth to the beautiful sentiment. But I am sure that her husband would have loved her, however ugly she might have grown. I am sure that, in his place, I would have done so."
"You? Why, Mr. Grath, I thought that you told me you would never love any one?" She spoke the words with mischievous intent, and glanced at him archly, as she watched the effect of the speech.
Leon blushed and became confused. He was at a loss for words, but was relieved from the necessity of formulating an answer, by an occurrence which threatened to end in a tragedy. They were crossing a street at the moment, and so intent had they become upon their discourse, that they scarcely heard the warning cries of the excited people. A maddened horse was running away, and as at length Leon was aroused to the imminence of some danger, intuitively, rather than by any well-defined recognition of what threatened, he gave one hasty glance in the direction from which the animal was approaching, and with a rapid movement he encircled Agnes's waist with his arm, and drew her back, barely in time to escape from the horse and cab which rattled by.
It was in this instant that Leon's awakening came to him. In presence of a danger which threatened to deprive him forever of the girl beside him, he became suddenly aware of the fact that she was essential to his future happiness. At last he knew that he loved Agnes, and from his silence as he took her home, and the tenderness of his tones at parting, Agnes instantly knew that he had been aroused. She already began to look forward to their next meeting, and to wonder whether he would at once unbosom himself. She meant to help him as much as possible. Poor fellow! He would be very much abashed, she had no doubt. She would not be coy and tantalizing as so many girls are. She thought that such affectation would be beneath her. Her sense of justice forbade it. No! She would be very nice to him. She would show no signs of uneasiness as he floundered about seeking words. She would wait patiently for what he would say, and then, when he had said the words, why, then—well, then it would be time enough at that sweet moment to decide what to do. She would make him happy, at any rate. Of that she was determined. There should be no ambiguity about her reply. And in this mood the girl awaited the wooing.
Leon did not sleep at all that night, or if he slumbered, it was only to dream of Agnes. A hundred times he saw her mangled beneath the hoofs of that runaway horse, and suffered agonies in consequence; each time awakening with a start, to find beads of perspiration upon his brow. Again his vision was more pleasing, and in dream-land he imagined himself united to Agnes, and living happily ever afterward, as all proper books tell us that married lovers do. At last the day dawned, and with impatience he awaited that hour when with propriety he could call upon his sweetheart. He had a very good excuse, for by accident, (sic?) he had left his umbrella at the house the day before, and already it was growing cloudy. He might need it, and therefore of course he should go for it before it should actually begin to rain.
It was scarcely noon when Leon was announced to Agnes, who was in her morning room, sipping a cup of chocolate, and wondering when he would come. And now he was here. She expected to find him distrait, and lacking in manner and speech, as she had seen him in the dawning of his passion. She was therefore wholly unprepared for what followed. If Leon had been bashful in her presence when he did not comprehend the cause of his disconcertion, having discovered that he loved Agnes, hesitation vanished. There was no circumlocution about his method at all. He was impulsive by nature, and, when a purpose was once well defined in his breast, he was impatient until he had put it into operation. Thus, without even alluding to the umbrella which he had ostensibly made the object of his visit, in accounting for it to himself, he addressed Agnes as follows:
"Miss Agnes, I have scarcely slept all night because of what might have happened through my carelessness yesterday."
"I do not understand you," said Agnes, and indeed she did not. She saw, however, that he intended to speak very directly, and was herself disconcerted.
"I mean the narrow escape which you had from being run over. I should have had my wits about me, and have prevented you from being in such danger."