irly,
with all her soul in her eyes.

"Are you satisfied?" she asked tremulously.

"Not yet," he answered as with one movement he drew her to him.

"My Santa Filomena," he murmured with his lips against her hair, "this
is worth a lifetime of waiting; and I have waited long."

In his close, passionate clasp her face was hidden; she hardly dared
meet his eyes when he finally held her from him.

"Why, you are not afraid to look at me? No one knows you better than I,
dear; you can trust me, I think."

"I know," she said, her hand fluttering in his; "but isn't--the train
coming?"

"Are you so anxious to have me go?"

Her hand closed tightly around his.

"Because," laying his bearded cheek against her fair one, "I have
something to ask you."

"To ask me?"

"Yes; are you surprised, can't you guess? Ruth, will you bless me still
further? Will you be my wife, love?"

A strange thrill stole over her; his voice had assumed a bewildering
tenderness. "If you really want me," she replied, with a sobbing laugh.

"Soon?" he persisted.

"Why?"

"Because you must. You will find me a tyrant in love, my Ruth."

"I am not afraid of you, sir."

"Then you should be. Think, child, I am an old man, already thirty-five;
did you remember that when you made me king among men?"

"Then I am quite an old lady; I am twenty-two."

"As ancient as that? Then you should be able to answer me. Make it soon,
sweetheart."

"Why, how you beg--for a king. Besides, there is Father, you know; he
decides everything for me."

"I know; and I have already asked him on paper. There is a note awaiting
him at the hotel; you will see I took a great deal for granted last
night, and--Ah, the whistle! What day is this, Ruth?"

"Friday."

"Good Friday, sweet, I think."

"Oh, I am not at all superstitious."

"And Monday is four days off; well, it must make up for all we lose.
Monday will be four days rolled into one."

"Remember," he continued hurriedly, "you are doubly precious now,
darling, and take good care of yourself till our 'Auf Wiedersehn.'"

"And--and--you will remember that for me too, D-doctor?"

"Who? There is no doctor here that I know of."

"But I know one--Herbert."

"God bless you for that, dear!" he answered gravely.

Mr. Levice, sleepily turning on his pillow, heard the whistle of the
out-going train with benignant satisfaction. It was taking Dr. Kemp
where he belonged,--to his busy practice,--and leaving his child'