Margie, my darling! I love you! I love you!"
"And yet you kept silence all these years! Oh, Archer!"
"I could not do differently. You were as far above me as the evening star
is above the earth it shines upon! It would have been base presumption in
the poor saloon-waiter, or the dry-goods clerk, to have aspired to the
hand of one like you. And although I loved you so, I should never have
spoken, had not fate raised me to the position of a fortune equal to your
own, and given me the means of offering you a home worthy of you. But I
am waiting for my answer. Give it to me, Margie."
Her shy eyes met his, and he read his answer in their clear depths. But
he was too exacting to be satisfied thus.
"Do you love me, Margie? I want to hear the words from your lips. Speak,
darling. They are for my ear alone, and you need not blush to utter
them."
"I do love you, Archer. I believe I have loved you ever since the first."
"And you will be mine? All my own!"
She gave him her hands. He drew the head, with its soft, bright hair, to
his breast, and kissed the sweet lips again and again, almost failing to
realize the blessed reality of his happiness.
It was late that night before Archer Trevlyn left his betrothed bride,
and took his way to the village hotel.
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