Stephen was conscious of
it--first with a momentary regret that his kiss should be spoilt by her
confused receipt of it, and then with the pleasant perception that her
awkwardness was her charm.

'And you do care for me and love me?' said he.

'Yes.'

'Very much?'

'Yes.'

'And I mustn't ask you if you'll wait for me, and be my wife some day?'

'Why not?' she said naively.

'There is a reason why, my Elfride.'

'Not any one that I know of.'

'Suppose there is something connected with me which makes it almost
impossible for you to agree to be my wife, or for your father to
countenance such an idea?'

'Nothing shall make me cease to love you: no blemish can be found upon
your personal nature. That is pure and generous, I know; and having
that, how can I be cold to you?'

'And shall nothing else affect us--shall nothing beyond my nature be a
part of my quality in your eyes, Elfie?'

'Nothing whatever,' she said with a breath of relief. 'Is that all? Some
outside circumstance? What do I care?'

'You can hardly judge, dear, till you know what has to be judged. For
that, we will stop till we get home. I believe in you, but I cannot feel
bright.'

'Love is new, and fresh to us as the dew; and we are together. As the
lover's world goes, this is a great deal. Stephen, I fancy I see the
difference between me and you--between men and women generally, perhaps.
I am content to build happiness on any accidental basis that may lie
near at hand; you are for making a world to suit your happiness.'

'Elfride, you sometimes say things which make you seem suddenly to
become five years older than you are, or than I am; and that remark is
one. I couldn't think so OLD as that, try how I might....And no lover
has ever kissed you before?'

'Never.'

'I knew that; you were so unused. You ride well, but you don't kiss
nicely at all; and I was told once, by my friend Knight, that that is an
excellent fault in woman.'

'Now, come; I must mount again, or we shall not be home by dinner-time.'
And they returned to where Pansy stood tethered. 'Instead of entrusting
my weight to a young man's unstable palm,' she continued gaily, 'I
prefer a surer "upping-stock" (as the villagers call it), in the form of
a gate. There--now I am myself again.'

They proceeded homeward at the same walking pace.

Her blitheness won Stephen out of his thoughtfulness, and each forgot
everything but the tone of the moment.

'What did you love me f