e stopped her words--she gave herself up for a moment to that long,
passionate kiss. Then she withdrew herself. But for him the whole
world was lit with happiness. He had heard the words which more than
anything else he desired to hear. She could never take them back. Her
melancholy was a miasma. He would laugh it away with her.

"Douglas," she said, "it was because I fancied that you were beginning
to care for me and because I knew that I cared for you that I went
away--not because I was afraid."

He looked puzzled. Then he spoke slowly.

"Emily, is it because I am poor and unknown? I am no fit husband for
you, I know. Yet I love you, and, if you care, I will make you happy."

"It is not that," she answered.

He rose to his feet. A darker shade was upon his face and his eyes were
lit with fire. A new look of resolution was in his face. His lower
jaws were knit together with a sullen strength.

"Emily," he said, "there is nothing in this world which I will suffer to
come between you and me. I have been lonely all my days--fatherless,
motherless, friendless. Now I have found you, and I know how bitterly I
must have suffered. If there are battles to fight I will fight them, if
you would have me famous first, I will make myself famous, but no power
in this world or any other shall take you away from me again. Tell me
what it is you fear. Why do you hesitate? I am a man, and your lover,
and I can bear to hear anything. But you belong to me. Remember that.
I won't part with you. I won't be denied . . . and I love you so
much, Emily."

She rose, too, and her arms went round his neck. She drew his lips to
hers and kissed him.

"There," she murmured. "You talk as I love to hear a man talk . . .
and--I too have been very lonely sometimes, Douglas."

"You have had so many friends, such a beautiful life," he answered.

She smiled at him.

"Dear," she said, "do you think any of these things are worth a moment's
consideration to a woman against the love of the man she cares for? We
are all the same, though some of us do not wear our hearts upon our
sleeves. The longing for love is always there, and the women who go
hungry for it through life are the women to be pitied. Douglas, I would
change places with that simple, dark-eyed little girl you were with this
evening if--if I could marry you to-morrow. Is that too bold?"

He started away. A sudden fear wrenched at his heartstrings. He looked
at her wildly.

"Do you mea