At this point the solicitor rose from his chair and walked softly to the window, where he remained for five minutes looking out upon Stepney Green with his back to the lovers. If Harry had been watching him, he would have remarked a curious tremulous movement of the shoulders.
"There is one thing more, Harry, that I have to ask you."
"Of course, you have only to ask me, whatever it is. Could I refuse you anything, who will give me so much?"
Their fingers were interlaced, their eyes were looking into each other. No; he could refuse her nothing.
"I give you much? O Harry! what is a woman's gift of herself?"
Harry restrained himself. The solicitor might be sympathetic; but, on the whole, it was best to act as if he were not. Law has little to do with love; Cupid has never yet been represented with the long gown.
"It is a strange request, Harry. It is connected with my—my little foolish secret. You will let me go away directly the service is over, and you will consent not to see me again until the evening, when I shall return. You, with all the girls, will meet me in the porch of the Palace at seven o'clock exactly. And, as Miss Messenger will come too, you will make your—perhaps your last appearance—my poor boy—in the character of a modern English gentleman in evening-dress. Tell your best man that he is to give his arm to Nelly; the other girls will follow two and two. Oh, Harry, the first sound of the organ in your Palace will be your own wedding march: the first festival in your Palace will be in your own honor. Is not that what it should be?"
"In your honor, dear, not mine. And Miss Messenger? Are we to give no honor to her who built the Palace?"
"Oh, yes—yes—yes!" She put the question by with a careless gesture. "But any one who happened to have the money could do such a simple thing. The honor is yours because you invented it."
"From your hands, Angela, I will take all the honor that you please to give. So am I doubly honored."