His face was so close to hers now that her hot cheeks touched his as she bent her head lower and lower, but she made no reply for a moment, and then she cried: 

’Oh, Harold, it seems so soon, with Maude only buried to-day.  What shall I say?  What ought I to say?’

‘Shall I tell you?’ he answered, taking her hand in his.  ’Say the first English word you ever spoke, and which I taught you.  Do you remember it?’

‘Iss’ came involuntarily from Jerrie, in the quick, lisping accent of her babyhood, when that was all the English she could master; and almost before it had escaped her, Harold smothered it with the kisses he pressed upon her lips as he claimed her for his own.

‘But, Harold,’ she tried to explain between his kisses, ’I meant that I did remember.  You must not—­you must not kiss me so fast.  You take my breath away.  There!  I won’t stand it any longer.  I’m going straight home to tell grandma how you act!’

‘And so am I,’ Harold said, rising as she did, but keeping his arm around her as they went slowly along in the soft September night, with the stars, which were shining for the first time on Maude’s grave, looking down upon then, and a thought of Maude in their hearts, and her dear name often upon their lips, as they talked of the past as lovers will, trying to recall just when it was that friendship ceased and love began, and deciding finally that neither knew nor cared when it was, so great was their present joy and anticipation of the future.

CHAPTER LII.

‘FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE.’

‘Grandma, Jerrie has promised to be my wife!’ Harold said to his grandmother that night when he took Jerrie in to her about ten o’clock, during which time they had walked to the Tramp House, and sitting down upon the chair which would hold but one, had talked the whole matter over, from the morning Harold first saw the sweet little face in the carpet-bag to the present moment when the same sweet face was pressed lovingly against his, and the same arms which had clung to him in the snow were around his neck in the darkness, as they went over with the old, old story, newest always and best to the last one who listens to it and believes that it is true.

‘Father, I have promised to marry Harold,’ Jerrie said to Arthur the next morning as she stood before him in the Gretchen room, with Harold’s hand in hers, and a look in her face something like what Gretchen’s had worn when Arthur first called her his wife.

’Lord bless you, I knew it was coming, but did not think it would be quite so soon.  You shock my nerves dreadfully,’ Arthur exclaimed, springing up and walking two or three times across the room.  Then, confronting the young couple, he said, ’Going to marry Harold?  I knew you would all this time.  Well, he will do as well as any one to look after the business.  Frank is no good, and Colvin is too old.  So, get married at once, within a week if you like.  I’m off for Germany next month, to find Gretchen’s grave, and the house, and the picture, and everything, and as I shall take you with me I shall need some one with brains to look after things while I am gone.’