No one could listen to such words unmoved; they were true and
eloquent, full of strange pathos. He told her how dark without
her the future would be to him, how sad and weary his life;
whereas if she would only love him, and let him claim her when he
returned, he would make her as happy as a queen. He would take
her to the bright sunny lands--would show her all the beauties
and wonders she longed to see--would buy her jewels and dresses
such as her beauty deserved--would be her humble, devoted slave,
if she would only love him.
It was very pleasant--the bright morning, the picturesque glade,
the warmth and brightness of summer all around. Beatrice looked
at the handsome, pale face with emotion, she felt Hugh's warm
lips pressed to her hand, she felt hot tears rain upon her
fingers, and wondered at such love. Yes, this was the love she
had read of and thought about.
"Beatrice," cried Hugh, "do not undo me with one word. Say you
love me, my darling--say I may return and claim you as my own.
Your whole life shall be like one long, bright summer's day."
She was carried away by the burning torrent of passionate words.
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