“Do you see I have kept my promise? I have the dear ring on my finger, and every day I have said the rosary with it for you. And now, you know, I must thank you.”
“I cannot bear it; don't, for my sake, Maheleth! Have you heard from your father?”
“No; he never will write, I knew that; but I have heard of him; he is in Spain. He will begin again as a banker, I feel sure, and never rest till he has repaid you.”
“I don't want to be repaid, except with interest, and you know it is not from him I can ask that. Do you remember that I was to ask you the same question I asked once already?”
“Yes, Henry, but think what you are doing.”
“I shall ask it first, and then think.”
“Well, Henry, if I should say that, I will answer it as you wish, provided you can gain my father's consent?”
The young man looked blank.
“I believe that is what God would wish me to do, Henry. My father has no further need of me, and he or I owe you a debt of gratitude we can never pay; yet I should like his distinct permission, if I could have it, and you can obtain it more easily than I can.”
“I shall not rest till it be done,” said Holcombe excitedly. “Shall I write to him? Maheleth, you have had ‘Crux per amore’; now God will give us ‘Amor per cruce.’ ”