Margaret was in, of course. He found her, the very perfection of neatness, watering some flowers in her window which he had sent her. She had on a tight-fitting cotton dress of a very small pattern, and her hair was neatly braided over her ears. He had seen her look more voluptuous, never more _piquante_ and irresistible. She came across the room to him with outstretched hand and raised eyebrows. "You have come!" she said; "that's good of you, for I scarcely expected you." Geoff stopped suddenly. "Scarcely expected me! Yet you must know that to-day the week is ended." "I knew that well enough; but I heard from the woman of the house here that to-day is the private view of the Academy, and I knew how much you would be engaged." "And did you think that I should suffer any thing to keep me from coming to you to-day?" She paused a minute, then looked him full in the face. "No; frankly and honestly I did not. I was using conventionalisms and talking society to you. I never will do so again. I knew you would come, and--and I longed for your coming, to tell you my delight at what I hear is your glorious success." "My greatest triumph is in your appreciation of it," said Geoff. "Having said to you what I did a week ago, you must know perfectly that the end and aim of all I think, of all I undertake, is connected with you. And you must not keep me in suspense, Margaret, please. You must tell me your decision." "My decision! Now did we not part, at my suggestion, for a week's adjournment, during which you should turn over in your mind certain positions which I had placed before you? And now, the week ended, you ask for my decision! Surely rather I ought to put the question." "A week ago I said to you, 'Margaret, be my wife.' It was not very romantically put, I confess; but I'm not a very romantic person. You told me to wait a week, to think over all the circumstances of our acquaintance, and to see whether my determination held good. The week is over; Ive done all you said; and Ive come again to say, Margaret, be my wife." It was rather a long speech this for Geoff; and as he uttered it his dear old face glowed with honest fervour. "You have thoroughly made up your mind, considered every thing, and decided?" "I have." "Mind, in telling you the story of my past life, I spoke out freely, regardless of my own feelings and of yours. You owe me an equal candour. You have thought of all?" "Of all." "And you still--" "I still repeat that one demand." "Then I say 'Yes,' frankly and freely. Geoffrey Ludlow, I will be your wife; and by Heaven's help I will make your life happy, and atone for my past. I--" And she did not say any more just then, for Geoff stopped her lips with a kiss. "What _can_ have become of Ludlow?" said Mr. Stompff for about the twentieth time, as he came back into the dining-room, after craning over the balcony and looking all round.