ned her eyes wide and
looked so enjoyable altogether, that Griffith, being entirely overcome
by reason of the strength of his feelings upon the subject, caught her
in both arms and embraced her heartily, and only released her in an
extremely but charmingly crushed and dishevelled condition, after he had
kissed her about half a dozen times.

It did not appear, upon the whole, that she objected to the proceeding.
She took it quite naturally and unaffectedly, as if she was used to
it, and regarded it as a part of the programme. Indeed, it was quite
a refreshing sight to see her put both her little hands up to her
disarranged hair and settle the crimps serenely.

"We should have the chances to find true people if we were rich," she
said. "And then we could take care, of Aimee and Mollie, and help them
to make grand marriages."

But that very instant Griffith's face fell somewhat.

"Dolly," he said, "have you never thought--not even _thought_ that you
would like to have made a grand marriage yourself?" And though there
was not the least shade of a reason for the change in his mood, it was
glaringly evident that he was at once rendered absolutely prostrate with
misery at the thought.

These sudden pangs of remorse at his own selfishness in holding the girl
bound to him, were his weakness, and Dolly's great difficulty was to
pilot him safely through his shoals of doubt and self-reproach, and she
had her own way of managing it. Just now her way of managing it was to
confront him bravely, coming quite close to him again, and taking hold
of one of his coat buttons.

"I have thought of it a hundred times," she said, "but not since I have
belonged to you; and as I have belonged to you ever since I was fifteen
years old, I should think what I thought before then can hardly have the
right to trouble us now. _You_ never think of marrying any one but me,
do you, Griffith?"

"Think of marrying any one else!" exclaimed Griffith, indignantly. "I
would n't marry a female Rajah with a diamond--"

"I know you wouldn't," Dolly interrupted. "I believe in you, Griffith.
Why won't you believe in me?" And the eyes lifted to his were so
perfectly honest and straightforward that the sourest of cynics must
have believed them, and Griffith was neither sour nor a cynic, but
simply an unsuccessful, affectionate, contradictory young man, too
susceptible to outward influences for his own peace of mind.

He was a _very_ unfortunate young man, i