guess how much my answer means to you. But you come here whistling and
dancing, as you always come, as if you hadn't a care upon your mind.'

'Don't make that a reproach against me, dear,' said he. 'Why it was just
the thought of you made me so happy.'

She looked up at him with an expression of doubt and pain, and as their
eyes met he caught one of her hands in both his, and held it.

'Dear Bertha!' he said, with a sudden moisture in his eyes. 'There is
nobody so good. There is nobody so lovely.'

She drew away from him again, though some sort of electric influence
seemed to come out of him, and draw her strongly to him.

'I must wait,' she said. 'I--I don't know you well enough. I don't
understand you. You are too light. You are too careless. I don't know
how far I can believe you.'

'Oh!' he cried, 'believe me altogether, dear. I love you with all my
heart and soul!'

She moved to the middle of the room, and sheltered herself behind a
table which stood there.

'I hardly know whether you have a heart,' she answered then. 'You fancy
you feel all you say,' she added quickly. 'You feel it for the minute.'

He stood at the other side of the table with brows suddenly grown
gloomy.

'I shall feel it all my life,' he said. 'It's the one thing I've ever
been in earnest about. I never thought I should feel as I do. If you
like to wait, dear, before answering me, I'll wait just as long as ever
you please.' His gloom was gone, and he was all eagerness and vivacity
again. 'There's nothing I won't do for your asking. I'll cure every
fault I've got. I'll be everything you'd like to have me. Try me,
darling. Wait and see. But give me only just a little bit of hope. Don't
send me away quite hungry. Tell me you care for me just a little--not
as I care for you--I don't expect that. It doesn't stand to reason yet
awhile you should.'

There she shot one swift glance at him, averting her gaze at once.

'I won't say I don't like you,' she answered with a candour half rustic,
half characteristic of herself 'But I won't answer yes or no just yet.'

'Very well, dear,' he answered tenderly. 'You shall have time to know
if I'm in earnest, or if I've taken nothing more than a passing fancy.
Shall I ask you again this day six months?'

'I won't promise you an answer then,' she said. 'I will answer you when
I am certain.'

'You could care for me, then,' he urged her, 'if you were only quite
sure I loved you, and always would lov