Very gravely and resolutely he slipped a gold ring on to her finger.
"And you will give me your word to keep it there," he said, looking up at
her.
Her lips were quivering; she could not speak.
"Never mind," he said; "I can trust you."
He released her hand with the words, and there followed a brief silence
while Nan stood struggling vainly for self-control.
Failing at length, she sank suddenly down upon her knees at the table
hiding her face and crying as if her heart would break.
"My dear Anne!" he said. And then in a different tone, his hand upon her
bowed head: "What is it child? Don't cry, don't cry! Is it so hard for
you to be my wife?"
She could not answer him. His kindness was so strange to her. She could
only sob under that gentle, comforting hand.
"Hush!" he said. "Hush! Don't be so distressed. Anne, listen! I will
never be a savage to you again. I swear it on my honour, on my faith in
you, and on the love I have for you. What more can I do?"
Still she could not answer him, but her tears were ceasing. Yielding to
the pressure of his hand, she had drawn nearer to him. But she did not
raise her head.
After a long, quivering silence she spoke.
"Piet, I--I want you to--forgive me; not just for this, but for--a
thousand things. Piet, I--I didn't know you really loved me."
"I have always loved you, Anne," he said, in his deep, slow voice.
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