"Stay, Sylvia. Ah, thank God for this!"
If she had ever hoped that Moor would forget her for his own sake, she now saw how vain such hope would have been, and was both touched and troubled by the knowledge of her supremacy which that hour gave her. She was as much the calmer as friendship is than love, and was the first to speak again, still standing there content although her words expressed a doubt.
"Are you very sure you want me? Are you not tired of the thorn that has fretted you so long? Remember, I am so young, so ignorant, and unfitted for a wife. Can I give you real happiness? make home what you would have it? and never see in your face regret that some wiser, better woman was not in my place?"
"I am sure of myself, and satisfied with you, as you are no wiser, no better, nothing but my Sylvia."
"It is very sweet to hear you say that with such a look. I do not deserve it but I will. Is the pain I once gave you gone now, Geoffrey?"
"Gone forever."
"Then I am satisfied, and will begin my life anew by trying to learn well the lesson my kind master is to teach me."
When Moor went that night Sylvia followed him, and as they stood together this happy moment seemed to recall that other sad one, for taking her hands again he asked, smiling now—
"Dear, is it good night or good by?"
"It is good by and come to-morrow."
