“Don’t go,” Loftus reiterated. “Don’t, that is, if you do love me; and if you do, tell me, will you be my wife?”
At this, before her, in abrupt enchantment, the abyss disappeared. Where its depths had been were parterres of gems, slopes of asphodel, the gleam and brilliance of the gates of paradise.
“Your wife!” The wonder of it was in her voice and marveling eyes.
“Come.” Taking her hand, Loftus led her to their former seat.
“But—”
“But what?”
“How can I be your wife? I am nobody.”
“You are perfect. There is only one thing I fear—” Loftus hesitated. Nervously the girl looked at him.
“Only one,” he continued. “I am not and never shall be half good enough for you.”
“Oh!”
“Never half enough.”
“Oh! How can you say that? It is not true. Could I care for you if it were?”
“And you do?”
“Don’t you know it?”
“Then don’t go, don’t go from me ever.”
“But—”