"How beautiful--you are!" he said faintly, "and I--weak as--confounded
rat! Hermione--love, they tell me I--must die. But first I want you
for--my very own if only for--a little while!"
"Oh, my dear," she whispered, soft mouth against his pale cheek, "I
always was yours--yours from the very first; I always shall be."
"Then you'll--marry me?"
"Yes, dear."
"Now?"
"Yes, dear."
"I--hoped you would, so--I arranged--minister's waiting now. Will
you--ring?" And he motioned feebly toward an electric bell-push that
stood upon a small table beside the bed.
And now once again as one in a dream she obeyed, and was presently aware
of soft-treading figures about her in the dim chamber--among them the
Old Un whose shoes for once creaked not at all. As one in a dream she
made the responses, felt the feeble clasp of that hand whose strength
and masterful power had thrilled her, heard the faint echo of that loved
voice that had wooed her so passionately once, yet wooed in vain, while
now--
She was alone again, alone with him who lay so very still and pale with
eyes closed wearily; from him she glanced to that which gleamed so
bright and new upon her finger and bending her head she pressed the
wedding ring to her lips.
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