“Where shall we drive?” he asked.
“Along the lake. I love it on a night like this.”
The moon was sailing high in a rack of clouds. As they came to the lake the waves writhed like mad sea-monsters in gold and white and black.
“Jane,” Frederick asked softly, “what made you wear—my rose?”
She sat very still beside him. “Mr. Towne,” she said at last, “tell me how much—you love me.”
He gave a start of surprise. Then he turned towards her and took her hand in his. “Let me tell you this! there never was a dearer woman. Everything that I have, all that I am, is yours if you will have it.”
There was a fine dignity in his avowal. She liked him more than ever.
“Do you love me enough”—she hurried over the words, “to help me?”
“Yes.” He drew her gently towards him. There was no struggle. She lay quietly against his arm, but he was aware that she trembled.
“Mr. Towne, Judy must have a great specialist right away. It’s her only chance. If you will send for him to-night, make yourself responsible for—everything—I’ll marry you whenever you say.”