"Wait till we meet,
and tell me with your own lips what you think."
"Where shall I tell it?"
"Here!" she said eagerly. "Here, where you found me helpless--here,
where you have brought me back to life, and where I have first learned
to know you. I can bear the hardest words you say to me if you will
only say them in this room. It is impossible I can be away longer than
a month; a month will be enough and more than enough. If I come back--"
She stopped confusedly. "I am thinking of myself," she said, "when I
ought to be thinking of you. You have your own occupations and your own
friends. Will you decide for us? Will you say how it shall be?"
"It shall be as you wish. If you come back in a month, you will find me
here."
"Will it cause you no sacrifice of your own comfort and your own plans?"
"It will cause me nothing," he replied, "but a journey back to the
City." He rose and took his hat. "I must go there at once," he added,
"or I shall not be in time."
"It is a promise between us?" she said, and held out her hand.
"Yes," he answered, a little sadly; "it is a promise."
Slight as it was, the shade of melancholy in his manner pained her.
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