Her hand tightened on his arm; a sudden trembling seized her in every limb, she could bear it no longer. All her heart went out to him in her next words:
“Were you doubting for my sake?”
“Yes,” he said. “Take my confession in return for yours—I was doubting for your sake.”
She said no more; she only looked at him. In that look the truth reached him at last. The next instant she was folded in his arms, and was shedding delicious tears of joy, with her face hidden on his bosom.
“Do I deserve my happiness?” she murmured, asking the one question at last. “Oh, I know how the poor narrow people who have never felt and never suffered would answer me if I asked them what I ask you. If they knew my story, they would forget all the provocation, and only remember the offense; they would fasten on my sin, and pass all my suffering by. But you are not one of them! Tell me if you have any shadow of a misgiving! Tell me if you doubt that the one dear object of all my life to come is to live worthy of you! I asked you to wait and see me; I asked you, if there was any hard truth to be told, to tell it me here with your own lips. Tell it, my love, my husband!—tell it me now!”
She looked up, still clinging to him as she clung to the hope of her better life to come.
“Tell me the truth!” she repeated.
“With my own lips?”
“Yes!” she answered, eagerly. “Say what you think of me with your own lips.”
He stooped and kissed her.