There was such an intensity in his voice, in his face, as Ann had never seen. There was a pleading hunger, there was a suppressed mastery that she was conscious of. She did not take her eyes from his face. "Ann," and without letting go of her hand he arose and drew her up before him, "together we stand at the most momentous time of all our lives--do you love me?" "Do I love you?" Ann half whispered with a smile that turned her face radiant; meantime her eyes grew shining with tears. The next instant she felt those long arms around her that Ole Bar had hinted would be useful in mating season, felt them binding her slender body so close she could hear the rapid thumping of his heart, and he kissed her with the savage joy of sweet possession, and, cradling her face in his strong hand, he held her cheek against his and breathed the fierce and tender joy words could not tell. "Oh, Abraham," she whispered, "do you love me so much--so _very_ much." "Love you?" he said half defiantly. "You cannot know, for you have not starved for it as I have. I love you, Ann Rutledge--not for a week or a month, or a year, but until this mortal shall have put on immortality; for if souls are immortal as you have taught me, _love is eternal_." A moment longer they stood in each other's arms. Then he held her away from him, looked at her and in serious tones said, "Sing for me, Ann: just one stanza of that good old hymn, 'This is the way I long have sought.'" "Hear Ann," Mrs. Rutledge said to her husband as the old-time music of happy laughter sounded on the stillness of the night. "Good for Abe!" he answered drowsily; "let them alone." CHAPTER XXVIII "HE'S RUINT HISSELF FOREVER" There was no one in New Salem surprised when it began to be whispered about that Abe Lincoln was setting up to Ann Rutledge. Indeed that seemed quite the natural thing. Both were favorites. Both were different in some ways from any others, perhaps superior, and both were everybody's friends. The wonderful change in Ann, too, was a source of pleasure to all who knew her, for she had not been able to hide the disappointment and embarrassment through which she had passed. Abe Lincoln had always been fairly happy so far as any one knew. He seemed even more happy now, and quite naturally the people charged this to Ann Rutledge, and the two words, "Ann and Abe," began to be everywhere linked together. It was not until Thanksgiving, however, that any definite announcement was made. This was at a dinner, the biggest and jolliest ever given in New Salem.