She had anticipated that the high rock was to be the altar at which the victim was to be sacrificed; but now he would not wait till he had taken her to the sacred spot. He had of course intended that he would there renew his offer; but he had perceived that his offer had been renewed, and had, in fact, been accepted, during this little parley as to the pathway. There was hardly any necessity for further words. So he must have thought; for, as quick as lightning, he flung his arms around her, and kissed her again, as he had kissed her on that other terrible occasion,--that occasion on which he had felt that he might hardly hope for pardon. "William, William," she said; "how can you serve me like that?" But he had a full understanding as to his own privileges, and was well aware that he was in the right now, as he had been before that he was trespassing egregiously. "Why are you so rough with me?" she said. "Clara, say that you love me." "I will say nothing to you because you are so rough." They were now walking up slowly towards the rocks. And as he had his arm round her waist, he was contented for awhile to allow her to walk without speaking. But when they were on the summit it was necessary for him that he should have a word from her of positive assurance. "Clara, say that you love me." "Have I not always loved you, Will, since almost the first moment that I saw you?" "But that won't do. You know that is not fair. Come, Clara; I've had a deal of trouble,--and grief too; haven't I? You should say a word to make up for it;--that is, if you can say it." "What can a word like that signify to you to-day? You have got everything." "Have I got you?" Still she paused. "I will have an answer. Have I got you? Are you now my own?" "I suppose so, Will. Don't now. I will not have it again. Does not that satisfy you?" "Tell me that you love me." "You know that I love you." "Better than anybody in the world?" "Yes;--better than anybody in the world." "And after all you will be--my wife?" "Oh, Will,--how you question one!" "You shall say it, and then it will all be fair and honest." "Say what? I'm sure I thought I had said everything." "Say that you mean to be my wife." "I suppose so,--if you wish it." "Wish it!" said he, getting up from his seat, and throwing his hat into the bushes on one side; "wish it! I don't think you have ever understood how I have wished it. Look here, Clara; I found when I got down to Norfolk that I couldn't live without you. Upon my word it is true. I don't suppose you'll believe me." "I didn't think it could be so bad with you as that." "No;--I don't suppose women ever do believe. And I wouldn't have believed it of myself. I hated myself for it. By George, I did. That is when I began to think it was all up with me." "All up with you! Oh, Will!"