The Best Man

"John – will you marry me?" Her voice was low, like music in a church.

How still everything suddenly grew!

"Will you marry me, John; or will you break my heart with your foolish pride?"

He stared at her dumbly. She balanced the image of St. Joseph in her hand.

"Shall I toss it into the fire?" she asked presently, a weariness stealing into her tones.

He tried to speak, but could not. She made as though to fling the image into the fire, when he leaned across the table and caught her hand.

"I'm a miserable coward," he said, choking.

"So am I, John. I was afraid I might lose you."