And the woollen-draper departed.
“What is all this, dear Winny?” inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone.
“Nothing—nothing,” she answered, bursting into tears. “Don't ask me about it now.”
“Winny,” said Thames, tenderly, “something which that self-sufficient fool has said has so far done me a service in enabling me to speak upon a subject which I have long had upon my lips, but have not had courage to utter.”
“Thames!”
“You seem to doubt my love,” he continued,—“you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights. Whatever those rights may be, whoever I am, my heart is yours. Do you accept it?”
“Dear Thames!”
“Forgive this ill-timed avowal of my love. But, answer me. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?”
“It is—it is; and has ever been,” replied Winifred, falling upon his neck.
Lovers' confidences should be respected. We close the chapter.