ing about the bush, but--give me your hand, dear,
then perhaps I shall be able to tell you better."

Without removing her eyes from his, she put forth her hand. Augury
Number 2, he thought, as the long, soft tapering fingers slipped into
his. She, for her part, thought how firm, and tender, and speaking was
that gaze which she met; and it was of a piece with the manner. No
exuberant over-confidence which would have jarred, none of the
self-effacing, stuttering diffidence, which would have sapped ever so
little, even if but momentarily, the high estimation in which she held
this man. Could she herself be as self-possessed?

"I love you, darling," he said. "I have come over this morning on
purpose to tell you so. We have not known each other very long, but I
have learnt to love you as I never thought it possible to love. Have
you not seen it?"

"I don't know," she whispered. But the hand that was within his seemed
to close around it with a perceptible pressure.

"Listen now, Aletta"; and there was a softened tenderness about the mere
sounding of her name that sent a thrill of delight through her whole
being. "I am rather a weather-worn hulk, I fear some people might say,
for you in your sweet, bright youth to condemn yourself to go through
life with. Yet, if you could bring yourself to face that ordeal, I
believe we should make each other very happy. Tell me, now, do you
think you can bring yourself to face it--to love an old fogey like me?"

Her eyes answered him. They had never left his, and now the love-light
that beamed from them was not to be mistaken.

"Yes, Colvin," she said softly. "I think I can. But--don't call
yourself names." And with the words she was gathered to him while they
exchanged their first kiss. "Can I love you?" she murmured unsteadily,
yielding in his embrace. "Can I love you, did you say? Can I help it?
My darling one, you are made to be loved," she uttered, in a very
abandonment of passionate tenderness. "But I--why should you love me--
you who have seen so much of the world? I am so inexperienced, so
ignorant. I am not even decent-looking. How can I ever make you
happy?"

"Ignorant? Inexperienced? My Aletta, you would more than hold your own
anywhere--perhaps will some day," he added, as though to himself. "Not
even decent-looking!" he echoed banteringly, and, holding her from him
at arm's length, he affected to scan her up and down. "No. No
presence, no grace