She had sought the
opportunity and asked if he knew it was the twelfth, and, drawing
her closer to him, he answered back: "Yes, darling; 'tis the day
on which you were to bring me your decision. You have kept your
word, birdie. You have brought it to me whether good or bad. Now
tell me, is it the old blind man's wife, the future mistress of
Collingwood, that I encircle with my arm?"
He bent down to listen for the reply, feeling her breath stir his
hair, and hearing each heart-beat as it counted off the seconds.
Then like a strain of music, sweet and rich, but oh, so touchingly
sad, the words came floating in a whisper to his ear, "Yes,
Richard, your future wife; but please, don't call yourself the old
blind man. It makes you seem a hundred times my father. You are
not old, Richard--no older than I feel!" and the newly betrothed
laid her head on Richard's shoulder, sobbing passionately.
Did all girls behave like this? Richard wished he knew. Did sweet
Lucy Collingwood, when she gave her young spring life to his
father's brown October? Lucy had loved her husband, he knew, and
there was quite as much difference between them as between himself
and Edith.
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