gth, with a tidal
impetuosity that could scarcely understand resistance or imagine
defeat. To restrain himself from a quick descent upon her position and
a boyish sweeping of her up in his powerful arms was taxing the utmost
of his self-control. Then Beth glanced up at the mirror.

The light of her eyes seemed to liquify his heart. He felt that mad,
joyous organ spread abruptly, throughout his entire being.

She rose up suddenly and turned to greet him.

"Why--Mr. Van!" she stammered, flushing rosily. "I _heard_ you were in
town."

He came towards her quietly enough, the jeweler's box in his hand.

"I called before," he answered in his off-hand way. "You must have
been out with poor old Searle."

"Oh," she said, "poor old Searle? Why poor?"

"I told you why before," he said boldly, in spite of himself. He was
standing before her by the table, looking fairly into her eyes, with
that dancing boyishness amazingly bright in his own. "You remember,
too--you can't forget."

The flush in her cheeks increased. Her glance was lowered.

"You didn't give me time to--rebuke you for that," she answered,
attempting to assume a tone of severity. "You had no right--it wasn't
nice or like you in the least."

"Yes it was, nice, and like me," he corrected. "I've brought you a
nugget from the claim." He opened the box and shook out the pin on the
table.

She had started to make a reply concerning his actions when leaving on
that former occasion. The words were pushed aside.

"Oh, my!" she said in a little exclamation, instead. "A
nugget!--gold!--not from the--not from your claim?"

His hand slightly trembled.

"From the 'Laughing Water' claim. Named for the girl I'm going to
marry."

She gasped, almost audibly. The things he said were so wholly
unexpected--so almost naked in their bluntness.

"The girl--some girl you--Isn't it beautiful?" she faltered helplessly.
"Of course I don't know--how any girl could have such a singular name."

"Yes you do," he corrected in his shockingly candid way. "You know
when Dave gave her the name."

"Do I?" she asked weakly, trying to smile, and feeling some wonderful,
welcome sort of fear of the passion with which he fairly glowed. "You
are--very positive."

He moved a trifle closer, touching the pin, with a finger, as she held
it in her hand. His voice slightly shook as he asked:

"Do you like it?"

"The pin? Of course. A genuine nugget! You were very kind,