"I shall never get better," reiterated the Squire. His small bright eyes glittered with a sudden suspicion. "Is he playing with you? Playing fast and loose, to suit his own convenience? Has he been unkind to you, cold, disappointing? Are you tired already of the fellow?" "Oh, no, oh, no, you _don't_ understand! Dear Mr Maplestone, do leave it until you are stronger." The crimson of the Squire's cheeks turned to a deeper hue, a spasm of pain contorted his lips, his eyes rolled, closed, opened again, and turned with a dreadful intensity upon his nephew. "I'm dying!" he cried. "You are killing me between you. _Antony_!" Then Antony stepped forward and took Juliet by the hands. White to the lips was he, but there was no flinching in his eyes, no tremor in the tone of his strong voice. "_My darling_," said Antony, "_will you marry me this week_? As God is my witness, it is my dearest wish. As God is my witness, I will make you happy." At the opposite side of the bed Mrs Maplestone subsided helplessly into tears. Writhing, gasping in pain, the Squire muttered to himself, "What a fuss to make! What a fuss about nothing!" To Juliet, as to Antony, they might have been at the other side of the world. They had ceased to exist. He stood, drawn up to his full height, gazing down into her face. She looked up, looked deep, deep into the steady brown eyes, and read therein what she most longed to see. "Yes, Tony, I will. The sooner the better," answered Juliet. And, so saying, started trustfully upon life's greatest adventure. CHAPTER FOUR. THE MAN WHO WAITED FOR LOVE.