He sat down. "And now take away your hands, Polly,
and let me see your face. Don't be ashamed of showing me what you feel.
This is a sacred moment for us. We are promising to take each other, you
know, for richer for poorer, for better for worse--as the good old
words have it. And I must warn you, my dear, you are not marrying a rich
man. I live in a poor, rough place, and have only a poor home to offer
you. Oh, I have had many scruples about asking you to leave your friends
to come and share it with me, Polly my love!"
"I'm not afraid. I am strong. I can work."
"And I shall take every care of you. Please God, you will never regret
your choice."
They were within sight of the house where they sat; and Mahony imagined
rude, curious eyes. So he did not kiss her. Instead, he drew her arm
though his, and together they paced up and down the path they had come
by, while he laid his plans before her, and confessed to the dreams he
had dreamt of their wedded life. It was a radiant afternoon in the
distance the sea lay deep blue, with turquoise shallows; a great white
bird of a ship, her canvas spread to the breeze, was making for . . .
why, to-day he did not care whether for port or for "home"; the sun went
down in a blaze behind a bank of emerald green. And little Polly agreed
with everything he said--was all one lovely glow of acquiescence. He
thought no happier mortal than himself trod the earth.
Chapter VIII
Mahony remained at the Hotel till the following afternoon, then walked
to Geelong and took the steam-packet to Melbourne.
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