"It gave me pleasure to hear you appreciated," he continued. "You are above conventional compliments. I withdraw what I said before. You are _not_ like other women." Her breath came and went as she listened, but she smiled bravely. "At any rate I am not like _some_ women. I never could take any of the deeper aspects of life in a merely frivolous spirit. With me it is a loyal, deep friendship, or nothing." He took her hand again. "Believe me, dear child, the friendship on my part is equally loyal and deep. It is for life." "For life," she murmured, suddenly grown pale. He dashed in, determined to strike home. "I prize you at your full worth, since I am one of those who can measure it. I have the deepest affection for you. I believe I could make you happy. Don't you understand? I offer you my whole life--that is, if you think me worthy." "Worthy!" she echoed, in dazed distress. "How can you think me worthy of you! I have lived in narrow retirement. I am nothing." He seized both her hands now. "No more of this. I ask for your promise." "I love you with all my heart and soul. But I am not good enough for you." "I thought we agreed you were not like other women, and yet there is this stiff-necked obstinacy." He drew her nearer to him, and kissed her on the lips. "It is settled--you are to be my wife." His domination seemed to hypnotise her. "Yes, I will do my best to make you a perfect wife, dear," she murmured, as if bowing to his irresistible will. He held her hands tighter, and looked into her face as if proudly. She met his look with glistening eyes: she was deathly pale now, and her lips, too, were colourless. Then abruptly she drew her hands from him, and, as if impelled on some tide of womanhood that rose in high music above all hesitations, above the fluttering timidity of her whole life, she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed his lips with a long abandonment. "I am now almost afraid of your sister," she whispered presently. "I shall feel on my trial." "But she has fallen in love with you already," he reassured her again. "And Mary is the sweetest and gentlest soul in the world." "I know I shall love her," she said. Her head hung down a moment in meditation. "But let us continue the work now, dear. I know you wish to have it finished to-day." But he had little now to add to it, and he had made his last stroke before the dusk of the afternoon overtook him. XIV Wyndham's career as an engaged man began amid a radiance of enthusiasm. When his prospective mother-in-law arrived for the tea-party, she was enchanted at the news, declaring, after the first joyous surprise, that it was the wish that lay nearest to the hearts of herself and her husband. And, presently, when Mary appeared, and was introduced not only to "the original of the portrait she had so admired," but also to "a very sweet Alice" who was to be her sister, "I guessed it," she broke out, kissing Miss Robinson impulsively. "I am so delighted."