The Treasure of Heaven Part 57

She drew herself a little away from him.

"But, are you sure you are doing right for yourself?" she asked--"You know you could marry anybody----"

He laughed, and threw one arm round her waist.

"Thanks!--I don't want to marry 'anybody'--I want to marry _you_! The question is, will you have me?"

She smiled.

"If I thought it would be for your good----"

Stooping quickly he kissed her.

"_That's_ very much for my good!" he declared. "And now that I've told you my mind, you must tell me yours. Do you love me, Mary?"

"I'm afraid you know that already too well!" she said, with a wistful radiance in her eyes.

"I don't!" he declared--"I'm not at all sure of you----"

She interrupted him.

"Are you sure of yourself?"

"Mary!"

"Ah, don't look so reproachful! It's only for you I'm thinking! You see I'm nothing but a poor working woman of what is called the lower cla.s.ses--I'm not young, and I'm not clever. Now you've got genius; you'll be a great man some day, quite soon perhaps--you may even become rich as well as famous, and then perhaps you'll be sorry you ever met me----"

"In that case I'll call upon the public hangman and ask him to give me a quick despatch," he said promptly; "Though I shouldn't be worth the expense of a rope!"

"Angus, you won't be serious!"

"Serious? I never was more serious in my life! And I want my question answered."

"What question?"

"Do you love me? Yes or no!"

He held her close and looked her full in the face as he made this peremptory demand. Her cheeks grew crimson, but she met his searching gaze frankly.

"Ah, though you are a man, you are a spoilt child!" she said. "You know I love you more than I can say!--and yet you want me to tell you what can never be told!"

He caught her to his heart, and kissed her pa.s.sionately.

"That's enough!" he said--"For if you love me, Mary, your love is love indeed!--it's no sham; and like all true and heavenly things, it will never change. I believe, if I turned out to be an utter wastrel, you'd love me still!"

"Of course I should!" she answered.

"Of course you would!" and he kissed her again. "Mary, _my_ Mary, if there were more women like you, there would be more men!--men in the real sense of the word--manly men, whose love and reverence for women would make them better and braver in the battle of life. Do you know, I can do anything now, with you to love me! I don't suppose,"--and here he unconsciously squared his shoulders--"I really don't suppose there is a single difficulty in my way that I won't conquer!"

She smiled, leaning against him.

"If you feel like that, I am very happy!" she said.

As she spoke, she raised her eyes to the sky, and uttered an involuntary exclamation.

"Look, look!" she cried--"How glorious!"

The heavens above them were glowing red,--forming a dome of burning rose, deepening in hue towards the sea, where the outer rim of the nearly vanished sun was slowly disappearing below the horizon--and in the centre of this ardent glory, a white cloud, shaped like a dove with outspread wings, hung almost motionless. The effect was marvellously beautiful, and Angus, full of his own joy, was more than ever conscious of the deep content of a spirit attuned to the infinite joy of nature.

"It is like the Holy Grail," he said, and, with one arm round the woman he loved, he softly quoted the lines:--

"And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail, Rose-red, with beatings in it as if alive!"

"That is Tennyson," she said.

"Yes--that is Tennyson--the last great poet England can boast," he answered. "The poet who hated hate and loved love."

"All poets are like that," she murmured.

"Not all, Mary! Some of the modern ones hate love and love hate!"

"Then they are not poets," she said. "They would not see any beauty in that lovely sky--and they would not understand----"

"Us!" finished Angus. "And I a.s.sure you, Mary at the present moment, we are worth understanding!"

She laughed softly.

"Do we understand ourselves?" she asked.

"Of course we don't! If we did, we should probably be miserable. It's just because we are mysterious one to another, that we are so happy. No human being should ever try to a.n.a.lyse the fact of existence. It's enough that we exist--and that we love each other. Isn't it, Mary?"

"Enough? It is too much,--too much happiness altogether for _me_, at any rate," she said. "I can't believe in it yet! I can't really, Angus! Why should you love me?"

"Why, indeed!" And his eyes grew dark and warm with tenderness--"Why should you love _me_?"

"Ah, there's so much to love in you!" and she made her heart's confession with a perfectly nave candour. "I daresay you don't see it yourself, but I do!"

"And I a.s.sure you, Mary," he declared, with a whimsical solemnity, "that there's ever so much more to love in you! I know you don't see it for yourself, but I do!"

Then they laughed together like two children, and all constraint was at an end between them. Hand in hand they descended the gra.s.sy steep of the "Giant's Castle"--charmed with one another, and at every step of the way seeing some new delight which they seemed to have missed before. The crimson sunset burned about them like the widening petals of a rose in fullest bloom,--earth caught the fervent glory and reflected it back again in many varying tints of brilliant colour, shading from green to gold, from pink to amethyst--and as they walked through the splendid vaporous light, it was as though they were a living part of the glory of the hour.

"We must tell David," said Mary, as they reached the bottom of the hill.

"Poor old dear! I think he will be glad."

"I know he will!" and Angus smiled confidently. "He's been waiting for this ever since Christmas Day!"

Mary's eyes opened in wonderment.