lf, to stand upon little punctilios. There had been too much
between them to let there be any question of a girl going after her
lover. She was going after her lover, and she didn't care who knew
it. Nevertheless, there was a blush beneath her veil as she asked at
the door whether Mr Owen was at home. Mr Owen was at home, and she
was shown at once into his parlour.

"William," she said;--throughout their intimacy she had never called
him William before;--"you have heard my news?"

"Yes," he said, "I have heard it;"--very seriously, with none of
that provoking smile with which he had hitherto responded to all her
assertions.

"And you have not come to congratulate me?"

"I should have done so. I do own that I have been wrong."

"Wrong;--very wrong! How was I to have any of the enjoyment of my
restored rights unless you came to enjoy them with me?"

"They can be nothing to me, Isabel."

"They shall be everything to you, sir."

"No, my dear."

"They are to be everything to me, and they can be nothing to me
without you. You know that, I suppose?" Then she waited for his
reply. "You know that, do you not? You know what I feel about that, I
say. Why do you not tell me? Have you any doubt?"

"Things have been unkind to us, Isabel, and have separated us."

"Nothing shall separate us." Then she paused for a moment. She had
thought of it all, and now had to pause before she could execute her
purpose. She had got her plan ready, but it required some courage,
some steadying of herself to the work before she could do it. Then
she came close to him,--close up to him, looking into his face as he
stood over her, not moving his feet, but almost retreating with his
body from her close presence. "William," she said, "take me in your
arms and kiss me. How often have you asked me during the last month!
Now I have come for it."

He paused a moment as though it were possible to refuse, as though
his collected thoughts and settled courage might enable him so to
outrage her in her petition. Then he broke down, and took her in
his arms, and pressed her to his bosom, and kissed her lips, and
her forehead, and her cheeks,--while she, having once achieved her
purpose, attempted in vain to escape from his long embrace.

"Now I shall be your wife," she said at last, when her breath had
returned to her.

"It should not be so."

"Not after that? Will you dare to say so to me,--after that? You
could never hold up your head again. Say