“I have a good right,” said she, blushing and hiding her face on his shoulder. “I ought to be ashamed to acknowledge it, an' me so young at the time; little more than sixteen. From that day to this, my story has been just your own. Connor, can you tell me how I found it out but I knew you loved me?” “Many a thing was to tell you that, Una dear. Sure my eyes were never off you, whenever you wor near me; an' wherever you were, there was I certain to be too. I never missed any public place if I thought you would be at it, an' that merely for the sake of seein' you. An', now will you tell me why it was that I could 'a sworn you lov'd me?” “You have answered for us both,” she replied. “As for me, if I only chance to hear your name mentioned my heart would beat; if the talk was about you I could listen to nothing else, and I often felt the color come and go on my cheek.” “Una, I never thought I could be born to such happiness. Now that I know that you love me, I can hardly think that it was love I felt for you all along; it's wonderful--it's wonderful!” “What is so wonderful?” she inquired. “Why, the change that I feel since knowin' that you love me; since I had it from your own lips, it has overcome me--I'm a child--I'm anything, anything you choose to make me; it was never love--it's only since I found you loved me that my heart's burnin' as it is.” “I'll make you happyr if I can,” she replied, “and keep you so, I hope.” “There's one thing that will make me still happier than I am,” said Connor. “What is it? If it's proper and right I'll do it.” “Promise me that if I live you'll never marry any one else than me.” “You wish then to have the promise all on one side,” she replied with a smile and a blush, each as sweet as ever captivated a human heart. “No, no, no, my darling Una, _acushla gra gal machree_, no! I will promise the same to you.” She paused, and a silence of nearly a minute ensued. “I don't know that it's right, Connor; I have taken one wrong step as it is, but, well as I love you, I won't take another; whatever I do I must feel that it's proper. I'm not sure that this is.” “Don't you say you love me, Una?” “I do; you know I do.” “I have only another question to ask; could you, or would you, love me as you do, and marry another?” “I could not, Connor, and would not, and will not. I am ready to promise; I may easily do it; for God knows the very thought of marrying another, or being deprived of you, is more than I can bear.” “Well, then,” returned her lover, seizing her hand, “I take God to witness that, whilst you are alive an' faithful to me, I will never marry any woman but yourself. Now,” he continued, “put your right hand into mine, and say the same words.”