It was no longer affection only. It was passion. Walter was pale,
agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his
bosom. She sobbed there; he poured inarticulate words over her, and still
held her, panting, to his beating heart. Even when the first gush of love
subsided a little he could not be so reasonable as he used to be. He was
wild against his own father, hers, and every obstacle, and implored her
to marry him at once by special license, and leave the old people to
untie the knot if they could.
Then Mary was astonished and hurt.
"A clandestine marriage, Mr. Clifford!" said she. "I thought you had
more respect for me than to mention such a thing."
Then he had to beg her pardon, and say the separation had driven him mad.
Then she forgave him.
Then he took advantage of her clemency, and proceeded calmly to show her
it was their only chance.
Then Mary forgot how severely she had checked him, and merely said that
was the last thing she would consent to, and bound him on his honor never
to mention to Julia Clifford that he had proposed such a thing.
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