me,
if you can; I am not myself to-night.'

"'I am not angry,' I said; 'I have nothing to forgive. We are both
imprudent; we are both unhappy.' I laid my head on his shoulder. 'Do you
really love me?' I asked him, softly, in a whisper.

"His arm stole round me again; and I felt the quick beat of his heart
get quicker and quicker. 'If you only knew!' he whispered back; 'if you
only knew--' He could say no more. I felt his face bending toward mine,
and dropped my head lower, and stopped him in the very act of kissing
me.

"'No,' I said; 'I am only a woman who has taken your fancy. You are
treating me as if I was your promised wife.'

"'_Be_ my promised wife!' he whispered, eagerly, and tried to raise my
head. I kept it down. The horror of these old remembrances that you know
of came back and made me tremble a little when he asked me to be his
wife. I don't think I was actually faint; but something like faintness
made me close my eyes. The moment I shut them, the darkness seemed to
open as if lightning had split it; and the ghosts of _those other men_
rose in the horrid gap, and looked at me.

"'Speak to me!' he whispered, tenderly. 'My darling, my angel, speak to
me!'

"His voice helped me to recover myself. I had just sense enough left to
remember that the time was passing, and that I had not put my question
to him yet about his name.

"'Suppose I felt for you as you feel for me?' I said. 'Suppose I loved
you dearly enough to trust you with the happiness of all my life to
come?'

"I paused a moment to get my breath. It was unbearably still and close;
the air seemed to have died when the night came.

"'Would you be marrying me honorably,' I went on, 'if you married me in
your present name?'

"His arm dropped from my waist, and I felt him give one great start.
After that he sat by me, still, and cold, and silent, as if my question
had struck him dumb. I put my arm round his neck, and lifted my head
again on his shoulder. Whatever the spell was I had laid on him, my
coming closer in that way seemed to break it.

"'Who told you?' He stopped. 'No,' he went on, 'nobody can have told
you. What made you suspect--?' He stopped again.

"'Nobody told me,' I said; 'and I don't know what made me suspect. Women
have strange fancies sometimes. Is Midwinter really your name?'

"'I can't deceive you,' he answered, after another interval of silence;
'Midwinter is _not_ really my name.'

"I nestled a little closer to him