years that may be weary and sorrowful, and endure with her whatever
burden comes, make her pathway easy and pleasant and restful."

"Oh, you must not," she cried, with a pang of renunciation. "Whatever
applies to another man applies with double force to you. You are so
noble, so tender; so worthy of what is best in life! And you have to
carry so many burdens for other people that you must have some one brave
and strong and full of energy and in perfect health--"

"The woman I love will be better than all this to me," he returned, with
a sweetness in his voice that went to her very heart, and brought the
tears to her eyes again. Then he dropped down in the great chair and
took her gently in his arms, and he knew his case was as good as won.

"When you were a little girl you once said to Hanny if you could have a
brother out of the clan you would like it to be me. And for days the
quaint, generous little soul could hardly resolve whether it was not her
duty to give me away. Then don't you remember you both planned to come
and keep my bachelor-home? Some one else will take her. And we will
wait, dear. We will go on in the same friendly, kindly fashion. You must
run in and out and come to me with your headaches and perplexities, and
I shall scold you a little and give you a bitter tonic; and when
everything is just right I shall ask you to marry me; but all the time I
shall be loving you so much that it will be impossible for you to refuse
me. So you know what is in store, and no one need trouble about the
future. You are not engaged, you are quite free; and, like Ben, I will
wait seven years or twenty years for you. But I think you never can
belong to any one else."

Ah, what delightful security!

"Dear, dear Doctor Joe. Oh, it would be too much happiness! No, I ought
not; mamma thinks I ought not to marry. And," raising her head and
showing a face full of scarlet flushes and tears, and eyes shining with
love's own light, "it looks just as if I had come in here and really
asked you to marry me. We have forgotten all about poor Jim. You will
think me a coquette, and you ought to despise me."

His clasp tightened a little.

"I am sorry that Jim should have been so heedless. Perhaps it will be
better to let him learn how much in earnest you are with your refusal.
It may not be flattering to a young girl to think a man will forget
her."

"But I want him to forget that part," she interrupted eagerly.

"I think he will