"Truth ban't often so beautiful as that," he said slowly. "And 'tis like your brave heart to say it out; and here's truth for your truth, Cora. If you care to hear me say I think well of you, then I care to hear you speak well of me; and more: nobody else's good word is better than wind in the trees against your slightest whisper. So that I please you, I care nothing for all the world; and if you'll let me, I'll live for you and die for you. For that matter I've lived for only you these many days, and if you'll marry me--there--'tis out. I'm a vain chap even to dare to say it; but 'tis you have made me so--'tis your kind words and thoughts for me--little thoughts that peep out and dear little kind things done by you and forgotten by you; but never by me, Cora. Can you do it? Can you sink down to me, or is it too much of a drop? Others have lowered themselves for love and never regretted it. 'Tis a fall for such a bright, lovely star as you; but my love's ready to catch you, so you shan't hurt yourself. I--I----" He broke off and she seemed really moved. She put her hand on his two, which were knotted together; and then she looked love into his straining eyes and nodded. His hands opened and seized hers and squeezed them till she drew in her breath. Then he put his arms round her and kissed her. "Don't move, for God's sake!" he said. "D'you know what you've done?" "Given myself to a dear good chap," she answered. In her heart she was thanking heaven that she had not worn the new muslin dress. "Weather or no weather, he'd have creased it and mangled it all over and ruined it for ever," she thought. They proceeded presently, but made no haste to overtake their companions. Their talk was of the future and marriage. He pressed for an early union; she was in no hurry. "You must learn a bit more about me first," she told him. "Maybe I'm not half as nice as you think. And there's your father. I'm terrible frightened of him." "You need not be, Cora. He's not against early marriage. You must come and see him pretty soon. He'll be right glad for my sake, though he'll be sure to tell me I've had better luck than I deserve." She considered awhile without speaking. "I'm afraid I shan't bring you much money," she said. "What's money? That's the least thing. I shall have plenty enough, no doubt." "What will your father do? Then there's your uncle, Mr. Nathan. He's terrible rich, by all accounts, and he thinks very well of you." "I shall be all right. But I'm a lazy man--too lazy. I shall turn my hand to something steady when we're married." "Such a dreamer you are. Not but what, with all your great cleverness, you ban't worth all the young men put together for brains."