"I had to--to let you," she explained, crimsoning, "but nobody ever did
before. I always thought--" Then Ruth hid her face against his shoulder,
in maidenly shame.
When they came to the log across the path, they sat down, very close
together. "You said we'd fight if we came here," Ruth whispered.
"We're not going to, though. I want to tell you something, dear, and I
haven't had the words for it till now."
"What is it?" she asked, in alarm.
"It's only that I love you, Ruth," he said, holding her closer, "and
when I've said that, I've said all. It isn't an idle word; it's all my
life that I give you, to do with as you will. It isn't anything that's
apart from you, or ever could be; it's as much yours as your hands or
eyes are. I didn't know it for a little while--that's because I was
blind. To think that I should go up to see you, even that first day,
without knowing you for my sweetheart--my wife!"
"No, don't draw away from me. You little wild bird, are you afraid of
Love? It's the sweetest thing God ever let a man dream of, Ruth--there's
nothing like it in all the world. Look up, Sweet Eyes, and say you love
me!"
Ruth's head drooped, and he put his hand under her chin, turning her
face toward him, but her eyes were downcast still. "Say it, darling," he
pleaded.
"I--I can't," she stammered.
"Why, dear?"
"Because--because--you know."
"I want you to say it, sweetheart. Won't you?"
"Sometime, perhaps."
"When?"
"When--when it's dark."
"It's dark now."
"No it isn't. How did you know?"
"How did I know what, dear?"
"That I--that I--cared."
"I knew the day you cried. I didn't know myself until then, but it all
came in a minute."
"I was afraid you were going to stay away a whole week."
"I couldn't, darling--I just had to come."
"Did you see everybody you wanted to see?"
"I couldn't see anything but your face, Ruth, with the tears on it. I've
got to go back to-morrow and have another try at the oculist."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, in acute disappointment.
"It's the last time, sweetheart; we'll never be separated again."
"Never?"
"Never in all the world--nor afterward."
"I expect you think I'm silly," she said, wiping her eyes, as they rose
to go home, "but I don't want you to go away."
"I don't want to go, dearest. If you're going to cry, you'll have me a
raving maniac. I can't stand it, now."
"I'm not going to," she answered, smiling through her tears, "but it's a
blessed privilege to have a nice stiff collar and a new tie to cry on."
"They're at your service, dear, for anything but that. I suppose we're
engaged now, aren't we?"