“Nelson, I don't believe I'm foolish and impetuous like some girls I know. You are asking me to take the most important step in a woman's life, and I cannot decide hastily. You have been drinking, Nelson, you acknowledge that frankly. In fact, I would have known it anyway, for you are not like you used to be—even your voice has altered. Nelson, a man who will give way to whiskey even in great trouble is not absolutely a safe man. I'm unhappy, I'll admit it. I've suffered since you disappeared as I never dreamed a woman could suffer, and yet—and yet what you propose seems a very imprudent thing to do. When did you want me to leave?”
“A week from to-night,” he said. “I can have everything ready by then and will bring a horse and buggy. I'll leave them down below the orchard and meet you right here. I'll whistle in the old way, and you must come to me. For God's sake don't refuse. I promise to grant any request you make. Not a single earthly wish of yours shall ever go unsatisfied. I know I can make you happy.”
Cynthia was silent for a moment. She drew her hand from his clasp. “I'll promise this much,” she said, in a low, firm voice. “I'll promise to bring my decision here next Friday night. If I decide to go, I suppose I'd better pack—”
“Only a very few things,” he interposed. “We shall stop in New Orleans and you can get all you want. Oh, little girl, think of my sheer delight over seeing you fairly loaded down with the beautiful things you ought always to have had, and noting the wonder of everybody over your rare beauty of face and form, and to know that you are all mine, that you gave up everything for a nameless man! You will not go back on me, dearest? You won't do it, after all I've been through?”
Cynthia was silent after this burst of feeling, and he put his arm around her and drew her, slightly resisting, into his embrace.
“What is troubling you, darling?” he asked, tenderly.
“I'm worried about your drinking,” she faltered. “I've seen more misery come from that habit than anything else in the world.”
“But I swear to you that not another drop shall ever pass my lips,” he said. “Why, darling, even with no promise to you to hold me back, I voluntarily did without it to-day, when right now my whole system is crying out for it and almost driving me mad. If I could do that of my own accord, don't you see I could let it alone forever for your sake?”
“But”—Cynthia raised her eyes to his—“between now and—and next Friday night, will you—”
“I shall be as sober as a judge when I come,” he laughed, absorbing hope from her question. “I shall come to you with the clearest head I ever had—the clearest head and the lightest heart, little girl, for we are going out together into a great, mysterious, dazzling world. You will not refuse me? You are sent to me to repay me for all I've been through. That's the way Providence acts. It brings us through misery and shadows out into joy and light. My shadows have been dark, but my light—great God, did mortal ever enter light such as ours will be!”