They acted as most true lovers do under like circumstances, and felt, as most true lovers do, that no others since the world began could have loved so well as they. It was all so strange to Mary; too sweet, too near Heaven to endure long, she fancied. It was the first real love-making that had passed between these two. Never had their spirits been so near before; they understood each other now, and each confessed that they must for the future be all in all to each other, come what might, but Mary would make no promise to marry him yet. He perceived that it was not mere maidenly coyness that prompted this refusal, and that there was some serious reason for it; but he was content, she loved him, loved him in a way that shut out all other possibilities of love for both. "I will be your wife or no one's, Harry," she at last replied to his passionate pleading, and they sealed the compact in a long delicious kiss. "Mary!" he said, "I do not know why you will not promise to marry me by-and-bye, but I will not press you for your reasons now. There is plenty of time to do that, and I know you will give in at last. Oh, my sweet! it is enough, it is more than I deserve, to know that you love me, to know that you will not drive me from you, that I may often be with you. Do you remember how cruel you were in London, when you told me to go away from you for ever, when you forbade me ever to speak to you of love again?" "Yes, but it is different now," she said gently. "And you really love me?" "Why do you ask me what you know so well?" "And I may come and see you as often as I like?" "I did not say that." "But I may." There came a pause, then she said, "Promise me something, Harry." "I will promise anything you wish." "I want you to promise me not to come here again until I write to you." "How cruel!" "No! I am not cruel, Harry, you do not understand; but I must think over all this, I do not see things clearly yet, I must think," she stopped in the middle of the sentence, and an expression of agony passed over her face, as the memory of her secret came to her mind. "Oh, Mary! don't you love me well enough to trust me yet?" he asked reproachfully. "It is you who are cruel now. Oh, Harry, you know it is not that. You know how I should like you never to leave me at all, you know that, but...." "I _am_ cruel! Tears in my poor little pet's eyes too, and I have brought them there by my brutality," and he stooped to kiss her eyelids. "Harry! Harry! Ah, if you knew what makes me hesitate! If you knew and could help me! But there is no one that I can go to for advice--no one!" There was a keen anguish in her voice as she uttered these words. He seized her hands. "Mary, my love, cannot you come to _me_ for advice?" "I cannot without betraying the secrets of others." "Is it this secret then that prevents your marrying me?" "Yes," she said sadly.