ce which I had not
deserved.

Up to that moment I had been leaning against the back of a garden
chair. Something else now got between me and my chair. It stole round
my waist--it held me gently--it strengthened its hold--it improved my
temper--it made me fit to understand him. All done by what? Only an arm!

Philip went on:

"I want to ask your father to do me the greatest of all favors--and
there is no time to lose. Every day, I expect to get a letter which may
recall me to Ireland."

My heart sank at this horrid prospect; and in some mysterious way my
head must have felt it too. I mean that I found my head resting on his
shoulder. He went on:

"How am I to get my opportunity of speaking to Mr. Gracedieu? I mustn't
call on him again as soon as to-morrow or next day. But I might meet
him, out walking alone, if you will tell me how to do it. A note to my
hotel is all I want. Don't tremble, my sweet. If you are not present at
the time, do you see any objection to my owning to your father that I
love you?"

I felt his delicate consideration for me--I did indeed feel it
gratefully. If he only spoke first, how well I should get on with papa
afterward! The prospect before me was exquisitely encouraging. I agreed
with Philip in everything; and I waited (how eagerly was only known to
myself) to hear what he would say to me next. He prophesied next:

"When I have told your father that I love you, he will expect me to tell
him something else. Can you guess what it is?"

If I had not been confused, perhaps I might have found the answer to
this. As it was, I left him to reply to himself. He did it, in words
which I shall remember as long as I live.

"Dearest Eunice, when your father has heard my confession, he will
suspect that there is another confession to follow it--he will want to
know if you love me. My angel, will my hopes be your hopes too, when I
answer him?"

What there was in this to make my heart beat so violently that I felt as
if I was being stifled, is more than I can tell. He leaned so close to
me, so tenderly, so delightfully close, that our faces nearly touched.
He whispered: "Say you love me, in a kiss!"

His lips touched my lips, pressed them, dwelt on them--oh, how can I
tell of it! Some new enchantment of feeling ran deliciously through
and through me. I forgot my own self; I only knew of one person in the
world. He was master of my lips; he was master of my heart. When he
whispered, "kiss me," I