'Emily, I shall be in dread through every moment that parts us. Will you consent to whatever I ask of you? Once before I would have taken you and made you my wife, and if you had yielded we should have escaped all this long misery. Will you now do what I wish?' She looked at him questioningly. 'Will you marry me as soon as it can possibly be? On Monday I will do what is necessary, and we can be married on Wednesday. This time you will not refuse?' 'Wednesday?' 'Yes. One day only need intervene between the notice and the marriage; it shall be at the church nearest to you.' 'Wilfrid, why do you--' Fear had taken hold upon her she could not face the thought. Wilfrid checked her faint words with his lips. 'I wish it,' he said, himself shaken with a tempest of passion which whelmed the last protest of his conscience. 'I shall scarcely tear myself from you even till then. Emily, Emily, what has my life been without your love? Oh, you will be the angel that raises me out of the ignoble world into which I have fallen! Hold me to you--make me feel and believe that you have saved me! Emily, my beautiful, my goddess! let me worship you, pray to you! Mine now, mine, love, for ever and ever! She burst into tears, unable to suffer this new denizen of her heart, the sure and certain hope of bliss. He kissed away the tears as they fell, whispering love that was near to frenzy. There came a Bob that shook her whole frame, then Wilfrid felt her cheek grow very cold against his; her eyes were half closed, from her lips escaped a faint moan. He drew back and, uncertain whether she had lost consciousness, called to her to speak. Her body could not fall, for it rested against a hollow part of the great trunk. The faintness lasted only for a few moments; she once more gazed at him with the eyes of infinite sadness. 'It is so hard to bear happiness,' were her first words. 'My dearest, you are weak and worn with trouble. Oh, we will soon leave that far behind us. Are you better, my lily? Only give me your hands to hold, and I will be very still. Your hands are so light; they weigh no more than leaves. Do you suffer, dear?' 'A little pain--there;' she touched her heart. Wilfrid looked into her face anxiously. 'Have you often that pain?' 'No, not often. I don't feel it now. Wilfrid! Every day I have spoken that name, have spoken it aloud.' 'So have I often spoken yours, dear.' They gazed at each other in silence. 'And it is to be as I wish?' Wilfrid said gently. 'So very soon?' 'So very long! This is only Saturday. If I had known this morning, it could have been on Monday.' 'Your wife, Wilfrid? Really your wife?' 'How your voice has changed! Till now you spoke so sadly. Those words are like the happiest of our old happy time. Three long days to be passed, but not one day more. You promise me?' 'I do your bidding, now and always, always!'