"Eliza, you are dearer to me than any one upon earth." She made no efforts to resist the pressure of his arm. There were moments of eloquent silence.
"Eliza, will you become my wife?"
"Do you know how utterly destitute I am?"
"That has no connection with my question."
"If you are the same George Mason you used to be, you wish for a direct answer. I will." It was not till this word was spoken that he ventured to impress a kiss upon her cheek.
"I have not done right," said Eliza; "you can never know how much I owe to that dear aunt. I ought not to engage myself without her consent—I can never be separated from her."
"You cannot suppose that I would wish you to be separated."
"You are the same—" she was about to add some epithets of praise, but checked herself. "How is it that you have remained unchanged?"
"By keeping bright an image in my heart of hearts."
With some difficulty Eliza rose, and opening the door, spoke to her aunt. She came and stood in the door.