An Indian summer's day had been followed by a calm but buoyant night. The sky, unflecked by lightest cloud, sparkled overhead, an arch of congealed azure, amidst which the big bright moon shone with such radiant resplendence that the stars were quite outdone and gleamed almost apologetically, as if aware that this was not their hour. As the sky dipped down to meet the mountains, lifting their purple bulk in soft but distinct undulation, the sparkling blue melted to a fathomless, almost colorless mist, which cast over the dark blue range a mysterious reflection, exaggerating its bulk, its mystery, and its silence.
The night, I thought, was like Ellen, exhilarating, joy-giving, yet serious and thought-compelling--its beauty and sweetness far removed from the beauty and sweetness of common things, by a silent suggestion of unfathomed depths. I found her alone on the porch, a white shawl so draped about her that once again she looked as she did that night at the spring, when she was yet a child, like a spirit from some purer world.
"Ellen," I began, dropping down on the step below her, and compelling her dream-held eyes to recognize mine, "have I kept high carnival in my heart these last three days for naught, or are you but playing with my hopes? Surely, Ellen, promise is but delayed fulfillment."
"Has it made you very happy--the hope?" she asked, her tones soft and dreamy, like the far-away notes of a violin. "You are _very_ sure that you will always be entirely content with me? The pleadings of my own heart, Donald, I might have resisted, but to bring you happiness, to bless and crown your life, as you say I alone can--to resist that temptation, Donald, was beyond my soul's strength. I may have been hard to win, dear, but your conquest is complete."
My right arm clasped her, and her head sank to my breast, as a bird into its nest, and rested there as quietly.
"Then you will grant my request, Ellen?" my heart throbbing tremulously. "Say you will! Even before I make it, that will be the sealing sign of your love and confidence."
"Then marry me to-morrow, mavourneen!" and before she could answer, I dropped softly upon her lips the first kiss I had ever dared to claim.
"To-morrow, Donald?" she questioned, with more of curiosity than anger or even surprise; "how could that be? But it shall be soon, dear, almost as soon as you could ask."