“Oh, my darling, my beloved Marie,” he continued, “can you not tell me that you love me?”
His hot breath was on her cheeks.
“Pray do not be angry with me,” he went on, wildly; “my heart is sobbing a prayer for your forgiveness; kiss me, dearest, and I shall know that I am forgiven and loved.”
For a moment she hesitated, and then, timidly reaching up her plump, white arms, she clasped them about his neck and pressed her lips—soft as the velvet petals of a rose—to his own. It was a clinging, soulful kiss of an innocent girl given with the wealth of her whole heart to the man she loved.
It seemed that heaven enveloped them for a moment with its dazzling splendor.
“Ah, my darling,” he murmured, “you forgive me, and love me. Complete my happiness by telling me in words.”
Her countenance brightened with a smile of almost heavenly radiance, and, drawing him still closer, she whispered: “Do I love you, Hugh? Why, I loved you from the beginning.”
Retreating within the summer-house, they seated themselves on a rustic seat and began telling over the sacred story that has been whispered by passionate lovers all round the world rom the beginning of time.
The checkered rays of the moon lay like a carpet at their feet, while all the light of starry heaven seemed to fall and rest upon them in glorious benediction.
A shadow fell across the doorway. It was Maj. Buell Hampton who stood before them. With a wild cry of joy and thanksgiving, Marie threw herself into his arms. After tenderly embracing her, he turned slowly toward Hugh, and, extending his hand in greeting, supported the sobbing girl with his other arm.