'In one sense we are not,' he answered, sadly; 'a woman ought not to come laden with riches to overwhelm her husband. I am a clergyman—a gentleman, and therefore I fear to ask you to be my wife.'
'Was Berengaria poor?' in a voice nearly inaudible; but he heard it, and his handsome face flushed with sudden emotion.
'Do you mean you are willing to be my Berengaria? Oh, Ethel, my own love, this is too much. Can you really care for me enough?'
'I have cared for you ever since you were so good to me in my trouble,' she said, turning her glowing countenance, that he might read the truth of her words; 'but you have made me very unhappy lately, Richard.'
'What could I do?' he answered, almost incoherent with joy. 'I thought you were treating me like a brother, and I feared to break in upon your grief. Oh, if you knew what I have suffered.'
'I understood, and that only made me love you all the more,' she replied, softly. 'You have been winning my heart slowly ever since that evening—you remember it?—in the kitchen garden.'
'When you almost broke my heart, was I likely to forget it, do you think?'
'You startled me. I had only a little love, but it has been growing ever since. Richard!' with her old archness, 'you will not refuse to see the lawyers now?'
He coloured slightly, and his bright look clouded; but this time Ethel did not misunderstand him.
'Dear Richard, you cannot hate the riches more than I do, but they must never be mentioned again between us; they must be sacred to us as my father's gift. I know you will help me to do what is right and good with them,' she continued, in her winning way; 'they are talents we must use, and not abuse.'