it then repent you so much that for my sake you sent a bullet into
that villain's shoulder?" said Fink. "What I now see looks less like
love than hatred."

"I hate you?" cried the poor girl, hiding her face with her hands.

He took her hands, drew her to him, and pressed a kiss upon her lips.
"Trust me, Lenore."

"Leave me! leave me!" cried Lenore, struggling; but her lips were
pressed to his, and her arms twined around him; and, looking into his
face with a passionate expression of love and fear, she gradually sank
down at his feet.

Thoroughly moved, Fink stooped and raised her. "Mine you are, and I hold
you fast," cried he. "With rifle and bullet I have bought your stormy
heart. In the same breath you tell me sweet things and bitter. What,
then, am I such a despot that a noble-minded woman should fear to come
under my yoke? Just as you are, Lenore--resolute, bold, a little
passionate devil--just so will I have you remain. We have been
companions in arms, and so we shall continue to be. The day may return
when we shall both raise our guns to our cheeks, and the people about us
need natures more disposed to give than to take a blow. Were you not my
heart's desire, were you a man, I should like to have you for my life's
companion; so, Lenore, you will be to me not only a beloved wife, but a
courageous friend, the confidante of all my plans, my best and truest
comrade."

Lenore shook her head, but she clung to him firmly. "I ought to be your
housewife," sighed she.

Fink caressingly stroked back her hair and kissed her burning brow. "Be
content, sweetheart," said he, tenderly, "and make up your mind to it.
We have been together in a fire strong enough to bring love to maturity,
and we know each other thoroughly. Between ourselves, we shall have many
a storm in our house. I am no easy-going companion, at least for a
woman, and you will very soon find that will of yours again, the loss of
which you are now lamenting. Be at rest, darling, you shall be as
headstrong as of yore; you need not distress yourself on that account;
so you may prepare for a few storms, but for hearty love and a merry
life as well. I will have you laugh again, Lenore. You will have no need
to make my shirts, and, if you don't like account-keeping, why, let it
alone; and if you do sometimes give your boys a box on the ear, it will
do our brood no harm. I think you will give yourself to me."

Lenore was silent, but she clung closer to his brea