The youth, after a brief pause, resumed, in a tone, which though it had lost much of its impetuousness, was yet full of stern resolution.
"Hear me, Edith--but a word--a single word.

I love you, believe me, dear Edith, I love you." The effect of this declaration was scarcely such as the youth desired.
She had been so much accustomed to his warm admiration, indicated frequently in phrases such as these, that it had the effect of restoring to her much of her self-possession, of which the nature of the previous dialogue had a little deprived her; and, in the most natural manner in the world, she replied--perhaps too, we may add, with much of the artlessness of art-- "Why, to be sure you do, Cousin Ralph--it would be something strange indeed if you did not.

I believe you love me, as I am sure you can never doubt how much you are beloved by me!" "_Cousin_ Ralph--_Cousin_ Ralph!" exclaimed the youth with something of his former impetuosity, emphasizing ironically as he spoke the unfortunate family epithet--"Ah, Edith, you _will not_ understand me--nor indeed, an hour ago, should I altogether have understood myself.
Suddenly, dear Edith, however, as I read certain passages of that book, the thought darted through my brain like lightning, and I saw into my own heart, as I had never been permitted to see into it before.

I there saw how much I loved you--not as my cousin--not as my sister, as you sometimes would have me call you, but as I _will not_ call you again--but as--as--" "As what ?" "As my _wife_, Edith--as my own, own wife!" He clasped her hand in his, while his head sunk, and his lips were pressed upon the taper and trembling fingers which grew cold and powerless within his grasp.
What a volume was at that moment opened, for the first time, before the gaze and understanding of the half-affrighted and deep-throbbing heart of that gentle girl.

The veil which had concealed its burning mysteries was torn away in an instant.