I do love you; see, you tears wet my hand." It was not a very enthusiastic response, but it satisfied him.

He clasped the young girl in his arms, and she did not resist; he kissed the proud lips and the flushed cheek.

Beatrice Earle said no word; he was half frightened, half touched, and wholly subdued.
"Now you are mine," cried Hugh--"mine, my own peerless one; nothing shall part us but death!" "Hush!" cried Beatrice, again shuddering as with cold fear.

"That is a word I dislike and dread so much, Hugh--do not use it." "I will not," he replied; and then Beatrice forgot her fears.

He was so happy--he loved her so dearly--he was so proud of winning her.