"And that means yes, my love, my own!" he cried, in a rapture so swift and sudden that he had clasped her to his breast and snatched the kiss of betrothal before she could check his impulsiveness. "You are my very own," he said, "and I am the happiest man in England. Yes, the happiest----Did I say in England? What a contemptible notion! I cannot conceive the idea that anywhere upon this earth there beats a human heart so full of gladness as mine. Suzette, Suzette, Suzette!" he repeated tenderly, with a kiss for each comma. "What a whirlwind you are!" she remonstrated. "And what a rag you are making of my frock! Oh, Allan, how you have hurried me into this! And even now I am not quite sure----" "You are sure that I adore you! What more need my wife be sure of? Oh, my darling, I have seen wedlock where no love is--only affection and trustfulness and kindly feeling--all the domestic virtues with love left out! Dearest, such a union is like a picture to the colour-blind, like music to the stone-deaf, like a landscape without sunlight. There is nothing in this world like love, and nothing can make up for love when love is wanting." "And nothing can make up for love when love is wanting," repeated Suzette, suddenly serious. "Oh, Allan! what if I am not sure?--if I doubt my own feelings?" "But you can't doubt. My dearest, I am reading the signs and tokens of love in those eloquent eyes, in those sensitive lips, while you are talking of doubt. There is no one else, is there, Suzette?" he asked, with quick earnestness. "No one in the past whose image comes between you and me?" "No one, no one." "In all your Indian experiences?" "No one." "Then I am more than satisfied. And now let us go and tell my mother. She has been waiting for a daughter ever since I was born; and, behold, at last I am giving her one, the sweetest her heart could desire." Suzette submitted, and walked by his side in silence while he went in search of Lady Emily, whom he finally discovered in the poultry-yard with Bessie Edgefield. Allan's elated air and Suzette's blushes were a sufficient indication of what had happened; and when mother and son had clasped hands and looked at each other there was no need of words. Lady Emily took the girl to her heart and kissed her. "I hope your father will be pleased, Suzette." "I don't think he will be sorry." "And I know Mrs. Mornington will be glad. Allan has her consent in advance." "Auntie is a very silly woman," said Suzette, laughingly. And then she had to endure Bessie Edgefield's congratulations, which were of the boisterous kind. "Of course you will let me be bridesmaid," she said, with that vulgar, practical view of things which wounds the sensitiveness of the newly betrothed almost as much as an estimate from a furniture dealer, or a prospectus from an insurance office. CHAPTER X. "OUR DREAMS PURSUE OUR DEAD, AND DO NOT FIND."