of the old
friendship, don't send me adrift with such an anxiety upon my mind."

"Would you really care?" says she.

"Ah! That is the humor of it," says he. "In spite of all I should still
really care. Come." He makes an effort to unclasp the small, pretty
fingers that are grasping the rails so rigidly. At first they seem to
resist his gentle pressure, and then they give way to him. She turns
suddenly.

"Felix,"--her voice is somewhat strained, somewhat harsh, not at all her
own voice,--"do you still love me?"

"You know that," returns he, sadly. If he has felt any surprise at the
question he has not shown it.

"No, no," says she, feverishly. "That you like me, that you are fond of
me, perhaps, I can still believe. But is it the same with you that it
used to be? Do you," with a little sob, "love me as well now as in those
old days? Just the same! Not," going nearer to him, and laying her hand
upon his breast, and raising agonized eyes of inquiry to his--"not one
bit less?"

"I love you a thousand times more," says he, very quietly, but with such
intensity that it enters into her very soul. "Why?" He has laid his own
hand over the small nervous one lying on his breast, and his face has
grown very white.

"Because I love you too!"

She stops short here, and begins to tremble violently. With a little
shamed, heartbroken gesture she tears her hand out of his and covers her
face from his sight.

"Say that again!" says he, hoarsely. He waits a moment, but when no word
comes from her he deliberately drags away the sheltering hands and
compels her to look at him.

"Say it!" says he, in a tone that is now almost a command.

"Oh! it is true--true!" cries she, vehemently. "I love you; I have loved
you a long time, I think, but I didn't know it. Oh, Felix! Dear, dear
Felix, forgive me!"

"Forgive you!" says he, brokenly.

"Ah! yes. And don't leave me. If you go away from me I shall die. There
has been so much of it--a little more--and----" She breaks down.

"My beloved!" says he in a faint, quick way. He is holding her to him
now with all his might. She can feel the quick pulsations of his heart.
Suddenly she slips her soft arms around his neck, and now with her head
pressed against his shoulder, bursts into a storm of tears. It is a last
shower.

They are both silent for a long time, and then he, raising one of her
hands, presses the palm against his lips. Looking up at him, she smiles,
uncertainly but happily