One glorious hot July Sunday which they spent near Marlow-on-Thames seemed to Sarah Hopper the happiest day of her life. She loved him, and she knew it. He loved her; and had often told her so; but more than that had never passed between them. It was nearly two years since they first met, during which time the only bright hours in the life of _Number II. on the Left_ had been those spent in Allan Murray’s company. His kindness never changed. His consideration for her seemed to Alwyn delightful.
On that sunny afternoon they pulled up under the willows for tea, which she made from a little basket they always took with them. They were sitting chatting pleasantly, watching the water-flies buzzing on the stream, throwing an occasional bit of cake to a swan, and thoroughly enjoying that delightful sense of laziness which comes upon most of us at the close of a hot day, when seated beneath the shady trees that overhang the river.
He took her hand, and played with it absently for a while.
“Little girl,” he said at last, “this cannot go on. I love you, and you know it; you love me, and I know that too; but do you love me sufficiently to give yourself to me?”
“I don’t think I could love you any more,” she replied, “however hard I tried, for you have been my good angel for two happy years, you have been the one bright star of hope, the one pleasant thing in my life. I love you, _I love you_, I LOVE YOU,” she murmured, as she leaned forward and laid her cheek upon his hand. He felt her warm breath thrill through him.
“I know it, dear,” he said, and a sad pained look crossed his face; “but what I want to know is, do you care for me sufficiently?”
“I hardly understand,” she answered, frightened she knew not why.
“Will you give me the right to keep you in luxury and protect you from harm?”
She looked up anxiously, there was something in his words and something in his tone she did not comprehend. His face was averted, but she saw how pale and haggard he looked.
“What do you mean?” she questioned, turning sick with an inexplicable dread.
“Could you give up the stage, the world for me? Instead of being your friend I would be your slave.”
She seemed to be in a dream; his words sounded strange, his halting speech, his ashen hue denoted evil.