, I forbore.

I suppose Florence pitied me; she must have seen from the woe begone
expression of my face that I was in the last stages of human endurance,
for she came quietly to my side and laid her hand on my arm.

"Come in, Roy," she said, kindly--almost tenderly, I thought--and drew me
into a small boudoir opposite the sitting-room. Things in the latter
apartment were too nearly wrecked to make it pleasant for occupation,
I suppose.

"There," she said, seating me on a sofa by her side, and speaking in a
consoling tone one would use to a child who had burnt his apron, or broke
the sugar-bowl, "don't think anything more of it." She was wiping the
blood from pussy's autograph on my face with her handkerchief--"Accidents
will happen, you know!"

She was so close to me--her sweet face so very near mine--and the
temptation was so great that I trust I may be excused, especially as I
am a bashful man, and not in the habit of committing such indiscretions.

I threw my arms around her and paid back, with interest, the kiss I had
kept so long. A burning blush overspread her face.

"Oh, Roy! how could you?" she exclaimed, reproachfully.

I had gone too far to retreat; the words which for years had filled my
heart struggled up to my lips and clamored for utterance.

"Florence!" I cried, passionately, "I love you! and I want you to be
entirely mine! Take me, and cure me of the bashful folly which has been
the bane of my life!"

She did not reply. I was in a tumult of fear and hope, but a sort of
desperate courage kept me firm.

"One word, Florence, only one word! Am I to be consigned to Hades, or
Paradise? Do not keep me in suspense!"

She nestled closer to my side; her soft cheek rested against mine; her
breath swept my lips. She spoke but one word in accents of deepest
tenderness, and that word was my name--

"Roy!"

"Florence! my darling!"

I trust that everybody will forgive me, and feel charitably toward me,
when I declare on my honor that I was happier, at that moment, than I had
ever been in my life before! "Popping the question" is acknowledged by
all to be a serious piece of business; and if ordinary men find it a
serious business, how much more terrible must it be to a bashful
individual like myself?

A silence fell between Florence and me; perhaps I was holding her so
close to my heart that the effort of speaking was difficult, I should not
wonder. By-and-by she lifted up her face, and said, quietly: