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She grew very still, but she flushed and then she turned her face away from him. She had no immediate reply.

“That is an extraordinary thing to ask you, I know,” he went on; “but it seems as if I had known you a long time, and then sitting here in the midst of Nature with the insects singing all about us–well, conventions are not so vital as in drawing rooms. Remember your Browning.”

She who had declaimed Browning so blithely now sat silent, but the color went out of her face, and she listened to the multitudinous stir and chirp of living things, and her eyes dreamed as he went on steadily, his eyes studying her face.

“Browning believed in these impulses. I’ll admit I never have. I’ve always reasoned upon things, at least since I became a man. It has brought me little, and I’m much disposed to try the virtue of an impulse. I feel as certain that we can be happy together as I am of life, so I come back to my question, Are you free to marry me?”

She flushed again. “I have no other ties, if that is what you mean.”

“That is what I mean precisely. I felt that you were free, like myself. I might ask Blakesly to vouch for me, but I prefer not. I ask for no one’s opinion of you. Can’t you trust to that insight of which women are supposed to be happily possessed?”

She smiled a little. “I never boasted of any divining power.”

He came nearer. “Come, you and I have gone by rule and reason long enough. Here we have a magnificent impulse; let us follow. Don’t ask me to wait, that would spoil it all; considerations would come in.”

“Ought they not to come in?”

“No,” he replied, and his low voice had the intensity of a trumpet. “If this magnificent moment passes by, this chance for a pure impulsive choice, it is lost forever. You know Browning makes much of such lost opportunities. Seeing you there with bent head and blowing hair, I would throw the world away to become the blade of grass you break. There, will that do?” He smiled.

“That speech should bring back youth to us both,” she said.

“Right action now will,” he quickly answered.

“But I must consider.”

“Do not. Take the impulse.”

“It may be wayward.”

“We’ve both got beyond the wayward impulse. This impulse rises from the profound deeps. Come, the sun sinks, the insect voices thicken, a star passes behind the moon, and life hastens. Come into my life. Can’t you trust me?”

She grew very white, but a look of exaltation came into her face. She lifted her clear, steady eyes to his. She reached her hand to his. “I will,” she said, and they rose and stood together thus.

He uncovered his head. A sort of awe fell upon him. A splendid human life was put into his keeping.

“A pure choice,” he said exultingly–“a choice untouched by considerations. It brings back the youth of the world.”

The sun lay along the sward in level lines, the sky was full of clouds sailing in file, like mighty purple cranes in saffron seas of flame, the wind wavered among the leaves, and the insects sang in sudden ecstasy of life.

The two looked into each other’s faces. They seemed to be transfigured, each to the other.

“You must not go back,” he said. “They would not understand you nor me. We will never be so near a great happiness, a great holiday. It is holiday time. Let us go to the mountains.”

She drew a sigh as if all her cares and duties dropped from her, then she smiled and a comprehending light sparkled in her eyes.

“Very well, to the clouds if you will.”