WITHswingingstepBerthareturnedtothehouse,andlikeaswarmofbirdsahundredamoretsflewaboutherheadCupidleaptfromtreetotreeandshothisarrowsintoherwillingheartherimaginationclothedthenakedbrancheswithtendergreen,andinherhappinessthegrayskyturnedtoazure....ItwasthefirsttimethatEdwardCraddockhadshownhisloveinamannerwhichwasunmistakableifbefore,muchhadsuggestedthathewasnotindifferent,nothinghadbeenabsolutelyconvincing,andthedoubthadcausedhereveryimaginablewoe.Asforher,shemadenoefforttoconcealitfromherselfshewasnotashamed,shelovedhimpassionately,sheworshippedthegroundhetrodonsheconfessedboldlythatheofallmenwastheonetomakeherhappyherlifeshewouldgiveintohisstrongandmanlyhands.ShehadmadeuphermindfirmlythatCraddockshouldleadhertothealtar.
Timeswithoutnumberalreadyhadshefanciedherselfrestinginhisarms—inhisstrongarms—theverythoughtofwhichwasaprotectionagainstalltheillsoftheworld.Ohyes,shewantedhimtotakeherinhisarmsandkissherinimaginationshefelthislipsuponhers,andthewarmthofhisbreathmadeherfaintwiththeanguishoflove.
Sheaskedherselfhowshecouldwaittilltheeveninghowonearthwasshetoenduretheslowpassingofthehours?Andshemustsitoppositeherauntandpretendtoread,ortalkonthissubjectandonthat.Itwasinsufferable.Then,inconsequently,sheaskedherselfifEdwardknewthatshelovedhimhecouldnotdreamhowintensewasherdesire.
“I’msorryI’mlatefortea,”shesaid,onenteringthedrawing-room.
“Mydear,”saidMissLey,“thebutteredtoastisprobablyhorrid,butIdon’tseewhyyoushouldnoteatcake.”
“Idon’twantanythingtoeat,”criedBertha,flingingherselfonachair.
“Butyou’redyingwiththirst,”addedMissLey,lookingatherniecewithsharpeyes.“Wouldn’tyoulikeyourteaoutofabreakfastcup?”
MissLeyhadcometotheconclusionthattherestlessnessandthelong