"
"'Tis yours still, believe me," said Calvert. "'Tis yours now and
forever--forever." He put his arm around her and drew her to him. "Far
or near I have loved you since the first day I saw you, but I never
dreamed that you would come to care, and in my pride I swore I would
never tell you of my love after that day in the garden at Azay."
"I must have been mad, I think," she said, wonderingly. "Mad to have
laughed at you--mad to have thrown away your love. Ah, I have learned
since then!"
"'Tis like a miracle that you should have come to care for me," said
Calvert, his lips upon her dark hair.
"The hour you left me I knew that I loved you. Oh, the agony of that
knowledge and the thought that I would never see you again! Even then
my pride would not let me tell you--I thought you would come again--and
then--then when later you turned from me--my heart broke, I think--'twas
quite numb--I was neither sorry nor glad--" She stopped again.
"Are you glad now, Adrienne?" asked Calvert, looking at her tenderly.
"Yes," she said, quietly.
"And will you be content to leave this France of yours and come with me
to America? There is a home waiting for you there--'tis not a splendid
place like those you know, but only a country house that stands near the
noblest and loveliest river of the land, upon whose banks peace and
happiness dwell.
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