The afternoon was warm. The soft breeze was stirring the great trees,
the flowering bushes on the lawn. A distant bird was calling. The
Cumberland hills were dreaming beyond the river. And Dorothy suddenly
looked at me with eyes in which supernatural lights were burning
brightly. It was the look which in a woman comprehends and accepts the
man who is before her; it was the secret and sacred fire of nature
illuminating her vision and asking my vision to join hers in an
intuition of a mating. With that look I asked Dorothy to be my wife.
Her hands were lying loosely clasped in her lap. Her head was leaning
gracefully against the tree back of the settee. She closed her eyes;
gave my hand a responding clasp. "Be my wife, Dorothy," I repeated. "Do
you really love me?" she asked. "With all my heart," I said. And I did.
It had come to me in that moment. "Do you love me?" I asked. "I have
always loved you," she replied. "I have always admired you. I have
waited for you. I did not expect you to come. You see I am now
twenty-seven. I have not been able to care for any one else. I could not
marry you before; and I could not marry any one else in the interval.
Now I am very happy that you really love me." "I do love you, yes,
Dorothy, I have always loved you."
Dorothy sprang to her feet, clasping her hands and laughing.
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