"Stay!"
He caught her hand, but she shrank back in but too evident torture.
"Not yet!" she cried, breathlessly. "Not yet! It is too soon after—after his death. You would not wish it—yet. Whatever I may feel—oh, surely you understand! And yet—I can not—can not let you—go!"
He actually smiled soothingly.
"And I shall not ask it until you yield it of your own will. Heaven knows I never expected so much, that I am the most undeserving yet the most grateful wretch alive. You have made me the happiest man under the sun, and though you have forbidden excess of expression, you will not deny me the right of an accepted lover beyond that. Carlita darling, look in my face and read, if you can, the pure and holy joy you have given me."
She glanced at him for only a moment, then passionately covered her eyes with her hands.
"It is almost as—he looked," she groaned.
He smiled again indulgently.
"Poor little hysterical girl," he murmured, tenderly, without touching her, "you will overcome all this in time, but it is enough for me now to know that you love me. Heaven knows it is possession enough for the best of men. You will let me tell Mrs. Chalmers?"
"Oh, no, no, no!" she cried, huskily. "No one at all—yet!"