He emphasized his words by kisses, which took Gertie’s breath away, and when she could speak she said imploringly, “Please, Godfrey, put me down. You tire, you hurt me.” Then he placed her in her chair, and kneeling at her side, held her hands in his, and looking anxiously into her face, said, “Forgive me, darling, I did not think how weak you were, and I am so happy, for I have father’s consent for you to tell me yes. I really have, and you are my own forever. ‘Tell Gertie,’ father said, ‘that I release her from her promise and welcome her as my daughter.’ Will you kiss me now, Gertie, even if I am _not_ a perfect gentleman?” “You are not deceiving me, Godfrey?” Gertie said, her lips quivering as she thought how terrible it would be to have this new cup of joy dashed from her lips just as she was ready to drink it. “Deceiving you! No. Father _did_ say so, and Allie knows it, too; and fickle, like all her sex, will not break her heart for me, who, she says, look like a fright with my shaved head, and high cheek-bones, and loose clothes. You see the fever has not left me very good-looking, and Marks, the rector at Hampstead, is down at Uncle Calvert’s, and rode with Allie yesterday; and I should not be surprised if she were yet to make aprons for Mrs. Van’s babies, and carry soup to the old lady. She’ll be a splendid wife for a minister, if she makes up her mind to it.” He had rattled on thus volubly for the sake of giving Gertie time in which to recover herself, and when he saw that her breath came more naturally and the color was dying away from her cheeks, he returned to the matter in question. “Kiss me, Gertie, gentleman or not, and I shall know you are my wife.” He held his face close to hers, and Gertie put her arms around his neck, and so they were betrothed at last; and when, half an hour later, Edith came in, she found Gertie with her head resting on Godfrey’s arm and an expression of perfect peace upon her face, while he talked to her in tones which no one who had ever known experimentally the meaning of love could mistake. “Ah, mother!” he said, as Edith came up to him. “You are really my mother now, for Gertie is mine, and the Lyles are pretty well mixed with the Schuylers, I think.” How happy he was, and how he hovered around Gertie, seeming almost to devour her with his eyes when his lips were not meeting hers, and when he told Miss Rossiter the good news, he kissed her, too, and swung her round as if she had been a top, and wanted to kiss his father, and did kiss Julia and Alice both when he went to call upon them that evening, and told them he was as good as a married man.