e him. As things had now gone, she would make
him quite happy with assurances on that subject. As to that other
question,--that fearful question, whether or not she could trust
him,--on that matter she had better at present say nothing, and
think as little, perhaps, as might be. She had taken the jump, and
therefore why should she not be gracious to him? But how was she to
be gracious to a lover who stood there with his back turned to her?

After the interval of a minute or two he remembered himself, and
turned round. Seeing her seated, he approached her, and went down on
both knees close at her feet. Then he took her hands again, for the
third time, and looked up into her eyes.

"Oswald, you on your knees!" she said.

"I would not bend to a princess," he said, "to ask for half her
throne; but I will kneel here all day, if you will let me, in thanks
for the gift of your love. I never kneeled to beg for it."

"This is the man who cannot make speeches."

"I think I could talk now by the hour, with you for a listener."

"Oh, but I must talk too."

"What will you say to me?"

"Nothing while you are kneeling. It is not natural that you should
kneel. You are like Samson with his locks shorn, or Hercules with a
distaff."

"Is that better?" he said, as he got up and put his arm round her
waist.

"You are in earnest?" she asked.

"In earnest. I hardly thought that that would be doubted. Do you not
believe me?"

"I do believe you. And you will be good?"

"Ah,--I do not know that."

"Try, and I will love you so dearly. Nay, I do love you dearly. I do.
I do."

"Say it again."

"I will say it fifty times,--till your ears are weary with it";--and
she did say it to him, after her own fashion, fifty times.

"This is a great change," he said, getting up after a while and
walking about the room.

"But a change for the better;--is it not, Oswald?"

"So much for the better that I hardly know myself in my new joy. But,
Violet, we'll have no delay,--will we? No shilly-shallying. What is
the use of waiting now that it's settled?"

"None in the least, Lord Chiltern. Let us say,--this day
twelvemonth."

"You are laughing at me, Violet."

"Remember, sir, that the first thing you have to do is to write to
your father."

He instantly went to the writing-table and took up paper and pen.
"Come along," he said. "You are to dictate it." But this she refused
to do, telling him that he must write his letter to his father