“Throwing off the language of flowers, and all language but that of simple truth, the reward I desire above all on earth is yourself. I know my request is a bold one, and I ought, I suppose, not to make it for months, if ever. But come it must, and to-night my heart has forced it to my lips.”
“It is very sudden,” Millicent answered, faintly.
“I know that, but, after all, most deep feelings are sudden. In the savages, with whom you have been associated, have you not seen hate and other strong passions develop in a moment? Why, then, should not love, in a more appropriate soil, spring to life? It certainly has taken deep root in my heart. Give me some answer, Millicent, if it be but that of hope deferred. Can you ever love me?”
“What if I do now?” said Millicent, demurely.
“Do you really, Millicent? Then I am the proudest, happiest man alive,” said Merwin. And, possessing himself of both her hands, kissed them vehemently.
“I trust I am doing right, Captain Merwin; I am almost sure I love you.”
“Thank you, dearest, thank you, for your sweet words. Your reward for them shall be my life devoted to your service.” And he drew her to him and kissed her lips.
“You deserve a whole life of thanks, Captain Merwin”—
“—for releasing me from such a captivity, Harold, and, lastly, from death, or worse than death.” And weeping, she threw her arms about his neck and buried her head on his shoulder.