"You know her well?"
"I know her very well. O Harry, do not ask me any more about her or myself. When we are married I will tell you all about the friendship of Miss Messenger to me. You trust me, do you not?"
"Trust you! O Angela!"
"My secret, such as it is, is not a shameful one, Harry; and it has to do with the very girl, this Miss Messenger. Leave me with it till the day of our wedding. I wonder how far your patience will endure my secrets? for here is another. You know that I have a little money?"
"I am afraid, my Angela," said Harry, laughing, "that you must have made a terrible hole in it since you came here. Little or much, what does it matter to us? Haven't we got the two thousand? Think of that tremendous lump."
"What can it matter?" she cried. "O Harry, I thank Heaven for letting me, too, have this great gift of sweet and disinterested love. I thought it would never come to me."
"To whom, then, should it come?"
"Don't, Harry, or—yes—go on thinking me all that you say, because it may help to make me all that you think. But that is not what I wanted to say. Would you mind very much, Harry, if I asked you to take my name?"
"I will take any name you wish, Angela. If I am your husband, what does it matter about any other name?"
"And then one other thing, Harry. Will your guardian give his consent?"