She shook her head, and smiled. They drifted on. Still came the distant strumming of the guitar and the tinkle of the mandolin. Marley thought of the young people dancing, and then, noting Lavinia's silence, he asked, out of the doubt that was his one remaining annoyance:
"Wouldn't you rather be back there dancing?"
"Because I can't dance!" There was guilt in his tone.
"You mustn't feel that way about it," Lavinia said. "It's nothing."
Lavinia was still, and Marley thought she assented to this. But in another moment she spoke again.
Marley stopped rowing and rested on his oars. The water lapped the bows of the boat as it slackened its speed.
"Could you?" Marley leaned forward eagerly.
"I'd like to." She was trailing one white hand in the water.
"Yes," she said. "We can do it over at Mayme's--any time. She'll play for us."
Marley felt a great gratitude, and he wondered how he could pour it forth upon her.
Then, suddenly, a change came over the dark surface of the waters. A mellow quality touched them; they seemed to tremble ecstatically, then they broke into sparkling ripples; the air quivered with a luminous beauty and a light flooded the little valley. Marley and Lavinia turned instinctively and looked up, and there, over the tops of the trees, black a moment before, now rounded domes of silver, rose the moon. They gazed at it a long time. Finally Marley turned and looked at Lavinia. Her white dress had become a drapery, her arms gleamed, her eyes were lustrous in the transfiguration of the moonlight. He could see that her lips were slightly parted, and her fingertips, dipped in the cool water over the gunwale of the boat, trailed behind them a long narrow thread of silver. They looked into each other's eyes, and neither spoke. They drifted on. At last, Marley said:
"Do you know--" he began, and then he stopped. "Don't you know," he went on, "can't you see, that I love you?"
He rested his arms on the oars, and leaned over toward her.
"I've loved you ever since that first night--do you remember? I know--I know I'm not good enough, but can't you--can't I--love you?"
He saw her eyelids fall, and as she turned and looked over the side of the boat, she put forth her hand, and he took it.