As he sat beside her, clerical, well-groomed, with his look of small yet
solemn intelligence, she wondered seriously if he would, in spite of all
opposition, have his way with her at last and pattern her to his liking?
"I am not in the least what you think me, Mr. Mullen--I don't know just
how to say it---"
"There is but one thing you need know, dearest, and that is that you
love me. As our greatest poet has expressed it 'To know no more is
woman's happiest knowledge.'"
"But I can't feel that you really--really care for me. How can you?"
With a tender gesture, he laid his free hand on hers while he looked
into her downcast face.
"You allude, I suppose, to the sad fact of your birth," he replied
gently, "but after you have become my wife, you will, of course need no
name but mine."
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Mullen, but really I didn't mean you to think--Oh,
there's the mill and Abel looking out of the window. Please, please
don't sit so close to me, and look as if we were discussing your sick
parishioners."
He obeyed her instantly, quite as circumspect as she in his regard for
the proprieties.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169