"I startled you, Arthur," said I, laughing in my glee. "How nervous you are!"
"What the deuce did you do it for?" cried he, quite testily, extricating himself from my arms, and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "Go back, Helen—go back directly! You'll get your death of cold!"
"I won't—till I've told you what I came for. They are blaming you, Arthur, for your temperance and sobriety, and I'm come to thank you for it. They say it is all 'these cursed women,' and that we are the bane of the world; but don't let them laugh, or grumble you out of your good resolutions, or your affection for me."
He laughed. I squeezed him in my arms again, and cried in tearful earnest—
"Do—do persevere!—and I'll love you better than ever I did before?"
"Well, well, I will!" said he, hastily kissing me. "There now, go.—You mad creature, how could you come out in your light evening dress, this chill autumn night?"
