When she reads this, she
will think it a piece of foolish presumption. My hope is she will
not always think so. Her Lover,
VAL COLLINS.
Her swift-pulsing heart was behaving very queerly. It seemed to
hang delightfully still, and then jump forward with odd little
beats of joy. She caught a glimpse of her happy face, and blew
out the light for shame, groping her way back to bed with the
letter carefully guarded against crumpling by her hand.
Foolish presumption indeed. Why, he had only seen her once, and
he said he would marry her with never a by-your-leave! Wasn't
that what he had said? She had to strike another match to learn
the lines that had not stuck word for word in her mind, and after
that another match to get a picture of the scrawl to visualize in
the dark.
How dared he take her for granted? But what a masterly way of
wooing for the right man! What idiotic folly if he had been the
wrong one! Was he, then, the right one? She questioned herself
closely, but came to no more definite answer than this--that her
heart went glad with a sweet joy to know he wanted to marry her.
She resolved to put him from her mind, and in this resolve she
fell at last into smiling sleep.
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