y say, what would Miss Deborah think! A young woman
receiving a gentleman alone after ten at night! "Father is not home yet,"
she said hastily, so confused and startled she scarcely knew what she was
saying. "How dark it is in here! The fire has dazzled my eyes. I'll get
a light."

"Oh, don't," he said; "I like the firelight." But she had gone, and
came back again with Sally, who carried the lamps, and looked very much
surprised, for Sally knew Ashurst ways better than Mr. Forsythe did: her
young man always went home at nine.

"How pleasant it was at Miss Deborah's!" Lois began, when Sally had gone
out, and she was left alone to see the anxiety in Dick's face. "Nobody
has such nice dinners as Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth." Lois's voice was
not altogether firm, yet, to her own surprise, she began to feel quite
calm, and almost indifferent; she knew why Dick had come, but she did not
even then know what her answer would be.

"Yes--no--I don't know," he answered. "The fact is, I only seemed to
live, Miss Lois, until I could get here to see you to-night. I heard your
father say he was going home with Denner, and I thought you'd be alone.
So I came. I could not stand any more suspense!" he added, with something
like a sob in his voice.

Lois's heart gave one jump of fright, and then was quiet. She thought,
vaguely, that she was glad he had rushed into it at once, so that she
need not keep up that terrible fencing, but she did not speak. She had
been sitting in a corner of the leather-covered sofa, and his excitement,
as he stood looking at her, made her rise.

He grasped her hands in his, wringing them sharply as he spoke, not even
noticing her little cry of pain, or her efforts to release herself. "You
know I love you,--you know it! Why haven't you let me tell you so? Oh,
Lois, how lovely you are to-night,--how happy we shall be!"

He kissed one of her hands with a sudden savage passion that frightened
her. "Oh--don't," she said, shrinking back, and pulling her hands away
from him.

He looked at her blankly a moment, but when he spoke again it was gently.
"Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to; but you know I love you. That
hasn't startled you? Tell me you care for me, Lois."

"But--but"--said Lois, sorry and ashamed, "I--don't!"

The eager boyish face, so near her own, flushed with sudden anger. "You
don't? You must! Why--why, I love you. It cannot be that you really
don't--tell me?"

But there was no doubt in Loi