I could not forbid him; between excitement and
sorrow and happiness and shame, I could do nothing; the best I
could do was to hide my face, but the breast of that grey coat
was a strange hiding-place for it. With that inconsistent
mingling of small things with great in one's perceptions,
which everybody knows, I remember the soft feel of the fine
grey cloth along with the clasp of Thorold's arms and the
touch of his cheek resting upon my hair. And we stood so,
quite still, for what seemed both a long and a short time, in
which I think happiness got the upper hand with me, and pain
for the moment was bid into the background. At last Thorold
raised his head and bade me, lift up mine.
"Look up, darling," he said; "look up, Daisy! let me see your
face. Look up, Daisy — we have only a minute, and everything
in the world to say to each other. Daisy — I want to see you."
I think it was one of the most difficult little things I ever
had in my life to do, to raise my face and let him look at it;
but I knew it must be done, and I did it.
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