“And you will always trust me now, Frank?” she asked presently with happy and tender elation.
“Vera,” I said, gravely, “I am showing my faith in you, am I not, by asking you to be my wife? I can trust you?”
“Trust me!” she cried. “Mon Dieu! I have loved only one man; it is you.”
I bent down to kiss the pale upturned face and her lips met mine in a hot passionate caress, enough to make any man’s head reel.
“I will endeavour to blot out from my memory this strange deceit you have practised upon me,” I exclaimed in a low voice.
“I am thankful to you, for I’m so undeserving,” she cried, kissing me fondly again and again.
“But you must own your vindication has not been very satisfactory,” I said, smiling.
“Yes, I am aware of that,” she replied, seriously.
“Mais, restes tranquille. I cannot tell you all—at least not yet.”
“Then for the present I have heard enough to convince me once more of your affection, Vera, and to each other we will be as before. You are still, darling, my betrothed.”