At Love's Cost

"You will give Ida my love, Edwin, please, and tell her--" She turned

away that he might not see her anxiety. "That is all; but it means a

great deal, as you know, Edwin. I--I wish you every happiness, my dear

boy!"

"Thank you, mother," he said, by no means in an unmanly way. "My

happiness or unhappiness rests with her."

When he arrived at the Hall, Ida was just going out for a ride. She

turned back with him to the drawing-room, thinking that he had brought

a message from his mother, probably a definite invitation to stay at

the Grange, and in her mind she had already decided to decline it. As

he happened to stand with his back to the window the gravity of his

face did not enlighten her; and with something like a start she

received his first words.

"Miss Heron, my mother says that you have some thought of leaving

Herondale, of going abroad. If that is so, I cannot let you go

without--without my speaking to you; so I have come over this afternoon

to tell you, as well as I can, what I have on my mind and my heart. I'm

not very good at expressing myself, and I'm handicapped in the present

instance by--by the depth of my feeling. Of course I'm trying to tell

you that I love you. I thought you might have seen it," he said, with a

touch of wonder at her start and flush of surprise. "But I see you have

not noticed it. I love you very much indeed; and I feel that my only

chance of happiness lies in my winning you for my wife. I don't know

there's any more to be said than that, if I were to talk for a month. I

love you, and have loved you for a long time past." A few weeks, a few

months are "a long time" to youth when it is in love! "The very first

day I saw you--but I needn't tell you that, only I like you to know

that it isn't a sudden fancy, and one that I shall get over in a hurry.

I don't feel as though I shall ever get over it at all; I don't know

that I want to. Please don't speak for a moment. There was something

else I wanted to say. I'd got it all arranged as I came along, but the

sight of you has scattered it."

Ida had been going to speak, to stop him; but at this appeal she

remained silent, standing with her hands closing and unclosing on her

whip, her eyes fixed on the ground, her brows drawn straight. The

coldest woman cannot listen unmoved to a declaration of love, and Ida

was anything but cold.