, so full of
hesitation, that, if I leave you, you will come to the conclusion that
you have done wrong, and will write me a pathetic little letter, and go
away."

"No, I shall not do that," she observed.

"I shall not give you a chance, my own; I shall neither rest myself nor
let any one else rest until you are my wife. I will not distress you now
by talking about it. I shall go to the duchess to-day, and tell her that
you have relented in my favor at last; then you will let us decide for
you, Madaline, will you not?"

"Yes," she replied, with a smile; "it would be useless for me to rebel."

"You have made some very fatal admissions," he said, laughingly. "You
have owned that you love me; after that, denial, resistance, coyness,
shyness, nothing will avail. Oh, Madaline, I shall always love this spot
where I won you! I will have a picture of this brook-side painted some
day. We must go back to the house now; but, before we go, make me happy;
tell me of your own free will that you love me."

"You know I do. I love you, Norman--I will say it now--I love you ten
thousand times better than my life. I have loved you ever since I first
saw you; but I was afraid to say so, because of--well, you know why."

"You are not afraid now, Madaline?"

"No, not now," she replied; "you have chosen me from all the world to be
your wife. I will think of nothing but making you happy."

"In token of that, kiss me--just once--of your own free will."

"No," she refused, with a deep blush.

"You will, if you love me," he said; and then she turned her face to
his. She raised her pure, sweet lips to his and kissed him, blushing as
she did so to the very roots of her golden hair.

"You must never ask me to do that again," she said, gravely.

"No," returned he; "it was so remarkably unpleasant, Madaline, I could
not wish for a repetition;" and then they went back to the house
together.

"Norman," said Madaline, as they stood before the great Gothic porch,
"will you wait until to-morrow before you tell the duchess?"

"No," he laughed, "I shall tell her this very day."

Chapter XXII.

It was almost noon before Lord Arleigh saw Philippa, and then it struck
him that she was not looking well. She seemed to have lost some of her
brilliant color, and he fancied she was thinner than she used to be. She
had sent for him to her _boudoir_.

"I heard that you were inquiring for me, Norman," she said. "Had you any
especial reason