derstand that feeling? Do you know that I love you? I do, I do, I do! You must know it. If you don't, I solemnly swear it. I solemnly ask you, Elizabeth, to take me for your husband."
While Bruce said these words, he rose, with their rising passion, and came and stood before Lizzie. Again she was motionless.
"Does it take you so long to think?" said he, trying to read her indistinct features; and he sat down on the sofa beside her and took her hand.
At last Lizzie spoke.
"Are you sure," said she, "that you love me? "
"As sure as that I breathe. Now, Elizabeth, make me as sure that I am loved in return."
"It seems very strange, Mr. Bruce,' said Lizzie.
"What seems strange? Why should it? For a month I 've been trying, in a hundred dumb ways, to make it plain; and now, when I swear it, it only seems strange!"
"What do you love me for?"
"For? For yourself, Elizabeth."
"Myself? I am nothing."
"I love you for what you are, — for your deep, kind heart, — for being so perfectly a woman."
Lizzie drew away her hand, and her lover rose and stood before her again. But now she looked up into his face, questioning when she should have answered, drinking strength from his entreaties for her replies. There he stood before her, in the glow of the firelight, in all his gentlemanhood, for her to accept or reject. She slowly rose and gave him the hand she had withdrawn.
"Mr. Bruce, I shall be very proud to love you," she said.
And then, as if this effort was beyond her strength, she half staggered back to the sofa again. And still holding her hand, he sat down beside her. And there they were still sitting when they heard the Doctor and his sister come in.
For three days Elizabeth saw nothing of Mr. Mackenzie. At last, on the fourth day, passing his office in the village, she went in and asked for him. He came out of his little back parlor with his mouth full and a beaming face.
"Good-day, Miss Crowe, and good news!"
"Good news?" cried Lizzie.
"Capital!" said he, looking hard at her, while he put on his spectacles. "She writes that Mr. John — won't you take a seat? — has taken a sudden and unexpected turn for the better. Now 's the moment to save him; it 's an equal risk. They were to start for the North the second day after date. The surgeon comes with them. So they 'll be home — of course they 'll travel slowly — in four or five days. Yes, Miss, it 's a remarkable Providence. And that noble young man will be spared to the country, and to those who love him, as I do."
"I had better go back to the house and have it got ready," said Lizzie, for an answer.
"Yes, Miss, I think you had. In fact, Mrs. Ford made that request."
The request was obeyed. That same day Lizzie went home. For two days she found it her interest to overlook, assiduously, a general sweeping, scrubbing, and provisioning. She allowed herself no idle moment until bed-time. Then — But I would rather not be the chamberlain of her agony. It was the easier to work, as Mr. Bruce had gone to Leatherborough on business.
On the fourth evening, at twilight, John Ford was borne up to the door on his stretcher, with his mother stalking beside him in rigid grief, and kind, silent friends pressing about with helping hands.
It was, indeed, almost a question, whether Jack was not dead. Death is not thinner, paler, stiller. Lizzie moved about like one in a dream. Of course, when there are so many sympathetic friends, a man's family has nothing to do, — except exercise a little self-control. The women huddled Mrs. Ford to bed; rest was imperative; she was
