gh they are strangers; but their cries of '_Bis! Bis_!'
give me less real pleasure than it did to have Papasito ask me to sing
over something that he liked. I seem to see him now, as he used to
listen to me in our flowery parlor. Do you remember that room, Mr.
King?"

"Do I _remember_ it?" he said, with a look and emphasis so earnest
that a quick blush suffused her eloquent face. "I see that room as
distinctly as you can see it," he continued. "It has often been in my
dreams, and the changing events of my life have never banished it from
my memory for a single day. How _could I_ forget it, when my heart
there received its first and only deep impression. I have loved you
from the first evening I saw you. Judging that your affections were
pre-engaged, I would gladly have loved another, if I could; but though
I have since met fascinating ladies, none of them have interested me
deeply."

An expression of pain passed over her face while she listened, and
when he paused she murmured softly, "I am sorry."

"Sorry!" echoed he. "Is it then impossible for me to inspire you with
sentiments similar to my own?"

"I am sorry," she replied, "because a first, fresh love, like yours,
deserves better recompense than it could receive from a bruised and
worn-out heart like mine. I can never experience the illusion of love
again. I have suffered too deeply."

"I do not wish you to experience the _illusion_ of love again," he
replied. "But my hope is that the devotion of my life may enable you
to experience the true and tender _reality_" He placed his hand gently
and timidly upon hers as he spoke, and looked in her face earnestly.

Without raising her eyes she said, "I suppose you are aware that my
mother was a slave, and that her daughters inherited her misfortune."

"I am aware of it," he replied. "But that only makes me ashamed of my
country, not of her or of them. Do not, I pray you, pain yourself or
me by alluding to any of the unfortunate circumstances of your
past life, with the idea that they can depreciate your value in my
estimation. From Madame and the Signor I have learned the whole story
of your wrongs and your sufferings. Fortunately, my good father taught
me, both by precept and example, to look through the surface of things
to the reality. I have seen and heard enough to be convinced that your
own heart is noble and pure. Such natures cannot be sullied by the
unworthiness of others; they may even be improved by it. Th