the word Yes or No. I do not wish—and this is of consequence to me—to hear any comments whatever. Do you agree?"
"Most willingly," he returns, with a smile; "the condition that you lay down I certainly shall keep."
"You must know then," I go on, "that, since I became acquainted with you, I have known you for the only man who could make me happy. Some time ago, another man, one who deserves my sympathy and whom I trust, asked me to marry him. Being of opinion that, in the last resort, the knowledge that one is greatly loved may serve as a substitute for happiness, I have taken a month to think the matter over. My decision depends upon your answer. I ought perhaps to add that I can foresee what this is likely to be; but that I am very anxious to get absolute certainty on this point, lest I should at some future time have to reproach myself with having let my chance of happiness go by."
There is a silence.
"May I venture to ask you to put your question in a more definite form?"
"Are you, or are you not, willing to marry me?"
