“You have been very faithful, John,” she
murmured to the fern and moss; “I suppose I
must reward you.”
“That will not do for me,” I said; “I
will not have reluctant liking, nor assent for pity’s
sake; which only means endurance. I must have
all love, or none, I must have your heart of hearts;
even as you have mine, Lorna.”
While I spoke, she glanced up shyly through her fluttering
lashes, to prolong my doubt one moment, for her own
delicious pride. Then she opened wide upon me
all the glorious depth and softness of her loving
eyes, and flung both arms around my neck, and answered
with her heart on mine,—
“Darling, you have won it all. I shall
never be my own again. I am yours, my own one,
for ever and for ever.”
I am sure I know not what I did, or what I said thereafter,
being overcome with transport by her words and at
her gaze. Only one thing I remember, when she
raised her bright lips to me, like a child, for me
to kiss, such a smile of sweet temptation met me through
her flowing hair, that I almost forgot my manners,
giving her no time to breathe.
“That will do,” said Lorna gently, but
violently blushing; “for the present that will
do, John. And now remember one thing, dear.
All the kindness is to be on my side; and you are
to be very distant, as behoves to a young maiden;
except when I invite you. But you may kiss my
hand, John; oh, yes, you may kiss my hand, you know.
Ah to be sure! I had forgotten; how very stupid
of me!”
For by this time I had taken one sweet hand and gazed
on it, with the pride of all the world to think that
such a lovely thing was mine; and then I slipped my
little ring upon the wedding finger; and this time
Lorna kept it, and looked with fondness on its beauty,
and clung to me with a flood of tears.
“Every time you cry,” said I, drawing
her closer to me “I shall consider it an invitation
not to be too distant. There now, none shall make
you weep. Darling, you shall sigh no more, but
live in peace and happiness, with me to guard and
cherish you: and who shall dare to vex you?”
But she drew a long sad sigh, and looked at the ground
with the great tears rolling, and pressed one hand
upon the trouble of her pure young breast.
“It can never, never be,” she murmured
to herself alone: “Who am I, to dream of
it? Something in my heart tells me it can be so
never, never.”
TWO NEGATIVES MAKE AN AFFIRMATIVE
[Illustration: 286.jpg Illustrated Capital]
There was, however, no possibility of depressing me
at such a time. To be loved by Lorna, the sweet,
the pure, the playful one, the fairest creature on
God’s earth and the most enchanting, the lady
of high birth and mind; that I, a mere clumsy, blundering
yeoman, without wit, or wealth, or lineage, should
have won that loving heart to be my own for ever,
was a thought no fears could lessen, and no chance
could steal from me.
