Sprig Muslin

‘I meant what I said, you know. I don’t think myself bound to offer you the protection of my name – did you ever listen to

so much fustian? I’ll swear I never did! – because the suggestion that I have compromised you is as ludicrous as it is nauseating.’

‘Of course it is. Don’t let us talk about it! It was so stupid!’

‘We will never mention it again, if you will give me your assurance that you have no qualms. Look at me!’

She obeyed, with a tiny smile. ‘Gareth, it is too foolish! How can you ask me such a question?’

‘I couldn’t bear to think, love, that you might consent to marry me for such a reason as that,’ he said quietly.

‘No,’ she answered. ‘Or I that you might ask me for such a reason as that.’

‘You may be very sure I would not. This is not the first time I have asked you to marry me, Hester.’

‘Not the first time, but this is different – I think?’ she said shyly.

‘Quite different. When I asked you at Brancaster I held you in affection and esteem, but I believed I could never be in love again. I was wrong. Will you marry me, my dear and last love?’

She took his face between her hands, and looked into his eyes. A sigh, as though she were rid of a burden, escaped her. ‘Yes, Gareth,’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, indeed I will!’