She put out her hand.

I held it hard, and kissed it.
Such moments as these, the opportunities of lovers, are gifts of the gods! Up to this instant, though I knew I loved her, and though I believed she returned my affection, I had had only hope.

Now, however, the self-surrender manifest in her willingness to let me squeeze her hand, the ardour of her pressure in return, and the glorious flush of love in her beautiful, deep, dark eyes as she lifted them to mine, were all the eloquences which the most impatient or exacting lover could expect or demand.
No word was spoken; none was needed.

Even had I not been pledged to verbal silence, words would have been poor and dull to express what we felt.

Hand in hand, like two little children, we went up the staircase and waited on the landing, till the summons from Mr.Trelawny should come.
I whispered in her ear--it was nicer than speaking aloud and at a greater distance--how her father had awakened, and what he had said; and all that had passed between us, except when she herself had been the subject of conversation.
Presently a bell rang from the room.