"I do not know," she responded, her heart beating fast, her eyes drooping
before him; "but when you go from me, I am not happy till I see you
again. When you are gone, I want to be alone that I may remember all you
have said, and say it over to myself again. When I hear you speak I want
to shut my eyes, I am so happy; and every word of mine seems clumsy when
you talk to me; and I feel of how little account I am beside you. Is
that love, Philip--Philip, do you think that is love?"

They were standing now. The fruit that hung above Guida's head was not
fairer and sweeter than she. Philip drew her to him, and her eyes lifted
to his.

"Is that love, Philip?" she repeated. "Tell me, for I do not know--it
has all come so soon. You are wiser; do not deceive me; you understand,
and I do not. Philip, do not let me deceive myself."

"As the Judgment of Life is before us, I believe you love me, Guida--
though I don't deserve it," he answered with tender seriousness.

"And it is right that you should love me; that we should love each other,
Philip?"

"It will be right soon," he said, "right for ever. Guida mine, I want
you to marry me."

His arm tightened round her waist, as though he half feared she would fly
from him. He was right; she made a motion backward, but he held her
firmly, tenderly. "Marry--marry you, Philip!" she exclaimed in
trembling dismay.