o that delight. She had been so certain
that she would not yield; and yet had made so poor a resistance! It was
fortunate that he was so lost, on his side, in the wonder of the new
bliss, and had so much to pour forth of triumph and ecstasy, that he
accepted the silence on her part without comment even in his own mind.
It was too completely unhoped for, too extraordinary, what had already
happened, that he should ask for more. Her passive position, her
reticence, but added to the rapture. She was his almost against her
will, constrained by the torrent of love which was irresistible, which
had carried all her defences away. This gave her a sort of majesty in
the young man's dazzled eyes. He was giddy with joy and pride. It had
seemed to him impossible that he could ever win this queen of his every
thought; and it became her, as a queen still, to stand almost aloof,
reluctant, although in all the sweetness of consent she had been made to
yield. It was her part, too, in nature and according to all that was
most seemly, to bring him back to the consideration of that invading sea
of common life which surrounded his golden isle of happiness. She put up
her hand as if to stop his mouth. "Oh, Theo, there are so many things
which we must think of. It cannot be all happiness as you suppose. You
are not thinking how many troublesome things I bring with me."

"Let trouble be for to-morrow," he cried; "nothing but joy on this white
day."

She looked at him with a shiver, yet a smile. "Ah, you are so young!
your heart has no ghosts like mine."

"Speak respectfully of my heart, for it is yours. The ghosts shall be
laid and the troubles will fly away. What are ghosts to you and me? One
may be subject to them, but two can face the world."

"O dreamer," she cried, but the reflection of the light in his face came
into hers, almost against her will.

"Not dreamer: lover, a better word. Don't spend your strength for
nothing, my lady and mistress. Do you really believe that you can make
me afraid, to-day?"

She shook her head, not answering, which indeed he scarcely left her
time to do, he had so much to say. His very nature seemed changed, the
proud, fastidious, taciturn Warrender babbling like a happy boy, in the
sudden overflow of a bliss which was too much for him. But while he ran
on, a louder voice than hers interrupted him,--the bell that meant the
commonest of all events, the bell for luncheon. It fell into the soft
retirement