“Which letter?” But he knew very well which was the letter in question.

“My prudent letter—­written in answer to yours that was very imprudent.”

“I thought there was nothing more to be said about it.”

“Come, Harry, don’t let there be any subject between us that we don’t care to think about and discuss.  I know what you meant by not answering me.  You meant to punish me, did you not, for having an opinion different from yours?  Is not that true, Harry?”

“Punish you, no; I did not want to punish you.  It was I that was punished, I think.”

“But you know I was right.  Was I not right?”

“I think you were wrong, but I don’t want to say anything more about it now.”

“Ah, but, Harry, I want you to talk about it.  Is it not everything to me—­everything in this world—­that you and I should agree about this?  I have nothing else to think of but you.  I have nothing to hope for but that I may live to be your wife.  My only care in the world is my care for you!  Come, Harry, don’t be glum with me.”

“I am not glum.”

“Speak a nice word to me.  Tell me that you believe me when I say that it is not of myself I am thinking, but of you.”

“Why can’t you let me think for myself in this?”

“Because you have got to think for me.”

“And I think you’d do very well on the income we ye got.  If you’ll consent to marry, this Summer, I won’t be glum, as you call it, a moment longer.”

“No, Harry; I must not do that.  I should be false to my duty to you if I did.”

“Then it’s no use saying anything more about it.”

“Look here, Harry, if an engagement for two years is tedious to you—­”

“Of course it is tedious.  Is not waiting for anything always tedious?  There’s nothing I hate so much as waiting.”

“But listen to me,” said she, gravely.  “If it is too tedious, if it is more than you think you can bear without being unhappy, I will release you from your engagement.”

“Florence!”

“Hear me to the end.  It will make no change in me and then if you like to come to me again at the end of the two years, you may be sure of the way in which I shall receive you.”

“And what good would that do?”

“Simply this good, that you would not be bound in a manner that makes you unhappy.  If you did not intend that when you asked me to be your wife—­Oh, Harry, all I want is to make you happy.  That is all that I care for, all that I think about?”

Harry swore to her with ten thousand oaths that he would not release her from any part of her engagement with him, that he would give her no loophole of escape from him, that he intended to hold her so firmly that if she divided herself from him, she should be accounted among women a paragon of falseness.  He was ready, he said, to marry her to-morrow.  That was his wish, his idea of what would be best for both of them;