"Well, do you know," she said, "oddly enough, I was thinking of my mother.

I can only just recall her, a woman with a thin, sweet face.

I remember one evening she was sitting in front of a house while the sun was setting as it is now, and I was playing by her, when suddenly she called me to her and kissed me, then pointed to the red clouds that were gathered in the sky, and said, 'I wonder if you will ever think of me, dear, when I have passed through those golden gates ?' I did not understand what she meant, but somehow I have remembered the words, and though she died so long ago, I do often think of her;" and two large tears rolled down her face as she spoke.
Few men can bear to see a sweet and pretty woman in tears, and this little incident was too much for John, whose caution and doubts all went to the winds together.
"Bessie," he said, "don't cry, dear; please, don't! I can't bear to see you cry." She looked up as though to remonstrate at his words, then she looked down again.
"Listen, Bessie," he went on awkwardly enough, "I have something to say to you.

I want to ask you if--if, in short, you will marry me.

Wait a bit, don't say anything yet; you know me pretty well by now.