ressed to Bruton Street instead of
Brook Street, the failure on the part of the post-office was not
surprising.

Whether or no she were offended or he killed he remained with her the
whole of that afternoon. "Of course I love you," she said. "Do you
suppose I should be here with you if I did not, or that you could
have remained in the house after what you did just now? I am not
given to run into rhapsodies quite so much as you are,--and being a
woman perhaps it is as well that I don't. But I think I can be quite
as true to you as you are to me."

"I am so much obliged to you for that," he said, grasping at her
hand.

"But I am sure that rhapsodies won't do any good. Now I'll tell you
my mind."

"You know mine," said Silverbridge.

"I will take it for granted that I do. Your mind is to marry me will
ye nill ye, as the people say." He answered this by merely nodding
his head and getting a little nearer to her. "That is all very well
in its way, and I am not going to say but what I am gratified." Then
he did grasp her hand. "If it pleases you to hear me say so, Lord
Silverbridge--"

"Not Lord!"

"Then I shall call you Plantagenet;--only it sounds so horribly
historical. Why are you not Thomas or Abraham? But if it will please
you to hear me say so, I am ready to acknowledge that nothing in all
my life ever came near to the delight I have in your love." Hereupon
he almost succeeded in getting his arm round her waist. But she was
strong, and seized his hand and held it. "And I speak no rhapsodies.
I tell you a truth which I want you to know and to keep in your
heart,--so that you may be always, always sure of it."

"I never will doubt it."

"But that marrying will ye nill ye, will not suit me. There is so
much wanted for happiness in life."

"I will do all that I can."

"Yes. Even though it be hazardous, I am willing to trust you. If you
were as other men are, if you could do as you please as lower men may
do, I would leave father and mother and my own country,--that I might
be your wife. I would do that because I love you. But what will my
life be here, if they who are your friends turn their backs upon me?
What will your life be, if, through all that, you continue to love
me?"

"That will all come right."

"And what will your life be, or mine," she said, going on with her
own thoughts without seeming to have heard his last words, "if in
such a condition as that you did not continue to love me?"

"I sh