She leant upon his words as if they planned
| “Eternities of separate sweetness.” |
“Mell, will your regard for me bear a heavy test? I cannot now speak such words to you as my feelings prompt me to speak, but will you not trust me blindly until certain difficulties which surround me are overcome? Is your affection great enough for that?”
“I do not know,” faltered Mell; “I would trust you to the world’s end, and to the very crack of doom, if you would only tell me.”
“And then it would not be trust,” Jerome gently reminded her, with his mysterious smile. Catching his glance of penetrating tenderness, a vivid breathing reality from a misty background of fogs and doubt, under the spell of its enchantment, Mell thought she could. Her face softened.
“It will be hard, Jerome, but I will try.”
“Then, believe me, all will yet be well with us. Whatever untoward event may occur, whatever else you may have cause to doubt, never question the sincerity of my attachment. I call upon God, who readeth the heart of man, to witness that you, only, are dear to me—you, only, precious in my sight. Believe that; be patient, and trust me.”
The deep silence which followed these words was broken only by their slow moving feet, crushing the crisp leaves beneath them, and the wild palpitations of the girl’s heart. Crystal stars made haste to lend their liquid glimmering to the scene, and blinked knowingly at each other from azure heights on high. The sweet south wind, in melting mood, murmured tunefully above their heads, swelling in delicious diapason of melodious suggestions, and mingling with mysterious elements in stirring pulse and thrilling nerves.
The rasp of a discordant tone, thrust vehemently into this sweet blending of concordant harmonies, disturbed upon a sudden Mell’s unwonted peace of soul. She heard her father’s voice. He was saying: “Don’t truss him, Mell; don’t truss him.”
“How can I be patient,” she asked, with a touch of her old petulance, “unless I know why it is you treat me so? Jerome, tell me your difficulties.”