He was silent for a moment, then he drew closer to her and bent over her. "Lenore, will you be my wife?" She did not speak, but looked at him. "Will you be my wife?" he repeated, almost fiercely; her supreme loveliness was telling upon him; the light in her eyes was sinking to his heart and stirring his pulses. "Tell me, Lenore, do you love me?" Her head drooped, then she sighed. "Yes, I love you," she said, and almost imperceptibly swayed toward him. He took her in his arms, his heart beating, his brain whirling, for the memory of that other love seemed to haunt him even at that moment. "You love me!" he murmured, hoarsely, looking back on the night of the past. "Can it be true, Lenore? You!" She nestled on his breast and looked up at him, and from the pale face the dark eyes gleamed passionately. "Leycester," she breathed, "you know I love you! You know it!" He pressed her closer to him, then a hoarse cry broke from him. "God forgive me!" It was a strange response at such a moment. "Why do you say that?" she asked, looking up at him; his face was haggard and remorseful, anything but as a lover's face should be, but he smiled gravely and kissed her. "It is strange!" he said, as if in explanation--"strange that I should have won your love, I who am so unworthy, while you are so peerless!" She trembled a little with a sudden qualm of fear. If he could but know of what she had been guilty to win him! It was she who was unworthy! But she put the fear from her. She had got him, and she did not doubt her power to hold him. "Do not speak of unworthiness," she murmured, lovingly. "We have both passed through the world, Leycester, and have learned to value true love. You have always had mine," she added, in a faint whisper. What could he do but kiss her? But even as he took her in his arms and laid his hand on the shapely head with its golden wealth, a subtle pain thrilled at his heart, and he felt as if he were guilty of some treachery. They stood for some time almost in silence--she was too wise to disturb his mood--side by side; then he put her arm in his. "Let us go in," he said. "Shall I tell my mother to-night, Lenore?" "Why not," she murmured, leaning against him, and with the upturned eyes glowing into his with suppressed passion and devotion. "Why not? Will they not be glad, do you think?" "Yes," he said, and he remembered how differently Stella had spoken. "After all," he thought with a sigh, "I shall make a great many persons happy and comfortable. Very well," he said, "I will see them." He stooped to kiss her before they passed into the light, and she did not shrink from his kiss; but put up her lips and met it with one in return. There were men, and not a few, who would have given some years of their life for such a kiss from the beautiful Lenore, but he, Leycester, took it without a thrill, without an extra heartbeat.