"You poor, dear woman!" he exclaimed, as his arm stole quietly round her waist, and Miss Martyn suffered it to remain there.
"Why did you hide your letter inside, Edgar?" she asked quietly.
"I suppose because I didn't want to startle you, and thought you should see the verses first. May I see it now?" he continued. "It's so long since I wrote it, you see."
"Yes, you may see it," replied Selina, without raising her eyes; "but it's all passed now," with another little sigh.
His disengaged hand had secured the letter, and hastily glancing over the writing, he exclaimed with sudden fervour:
"No, Selina! Every word I wrote then I mean to-day. When I left England years ago it was with your image in my heart, and with the determination that when I was rich I would come back and try my luck again. And in my heart you, and you alone, have reigned ever since. And when after long years I heard from my cousin that you might still be found at Seaton Lodge, you don't know what that meant to me. It made a boy of me again. It blotted out all the years that have divided us, and here I am waiting for my answer."
"Oh, Edgar, we mustn't be silly. Remember, we're no longer boy and girl."
"I remember nothing of the kind. All I remember is that it's Christmas Day, that I've asked you a question, and that I am waiting for the answer you would have given me years ago but for the damp and a drop of gum. You know what it would have been then; give me it now. Dearest, I'm waiting."
And Selina Martyn gave her answer, an all-sufficient one to both.