"Not yet," he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.

"My Santa Filomena," he murmured with his lips against her hair, "this is
worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long."

In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared meet
his eyes when he finally held her from him.

"Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I,
dear; you can trust me, I think."

"I know," she said, her hand fluttering in his; "but isn't--the train
coming?"

"Are you so anxious to have me go?"

Her hand closed tightly around his.

"Because," laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I have something
to ask you."

"To ask me?"

"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still
further? Will you be my wife, love?"

A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
tenderness. "If you really want me," she replied, with a sobbing laugh.

"Soon?" he persisted.