'You might have written,' she suggested in a tone of injury. 'I did.' 'And the letter never came--just as I feared.' She looked very sober and thoughtful then. 'You know our understanding that day in the garden,' she added. 'If you did not ask me again I was to know you--you did not love me any longer. That was long, long ago. 'I never loved any girl but you,' I said. 'I love you now, Hope, and that is enough--I love you so there is nothing else for me. You are dearer than my life. It was the thought of you that made me brave in battle. I wish I could be as brave here. But I demand your surrender--I shall give you no quarter now. 'I wish I knew,' she said, 'whether--whether you really love me or not? 'Don't you believe me, Hope? 'Yes, I believe you,' she said, 'but--but you might not know your own heart. 'It longs for you,' I said, 'it keeps me thinking of you always. Once it was so easy to be happy; since you have been away it has seemed as if there were no longer any light in the world or any pleasure. It has made me a slave. I did not know that love was such a mighty thing. 'Love is no Cupid--he is a giant,' she said, her voice trembling with emotion as mine had trembled. 'I tried to forget and he crushed me under his feet as if to punish me. She was near to crying now, but she shut her lips firmly and kept back the tears. God grant me I may never forget the look in her eyes that moment. She came closer to me. Our lips touched; my arms held her tightly. 'I have waited long for this,' I said--'the happiest moment of my life! I thought I had lost you. 'What a foolish man,' she whispered. 'I have loved you for years and years and you--you could not see it, I believe now.' She hesitated a moment, her eyes so close to my cheek I could feel the beat of their long lashes. 'That God made you for me,' she added. 'Love is God's helper,' I said. 'He made us for each other. 'I thank Him for it--I do love you so,' she whispered. The rest is the old, old story. They that have not lived it are to be pitied. When we sat down at length she told me what I had long suspected, that Mrs Fuller wished her to marry young Livingstone. 'But for Uncle Eb,' she added, 'I think I should have done so--for I had given up all hope of you.' 'Good old Uncle Eb!' I said. 'Let's go and tell him. He was sound asleep when we entered his room but woke as I lit the gas. 'What's the matter?' he whispered, lifting his head. 'Congratulate us,' I said. 'We're engaged. 'Hey ye conquered her?' he enquired smiling. 'Love has conquered us both,' I said. 'Wall, I swan! is thet so?' he answered. 'Guess I won't fool away any more time here in bed. If you childen'll go in t'other room I'll slip into my trousers an' then ye'll hear me talk some conversation.