given each other a long, long kiss, a kiss of
youth and love!

"Angry--with you--my darling!" says Roger, at length, in a low tone,
when he has collected his scattered senses a little. He is gazing at her
with the most infinite tenderness, and Dulce, with her head pressed
close against his heart, feels with a keen sense of relief that she can
defy Stephen, the world, cruel Fate, _all!_ and that her dearest dream
of happiness is at last fulfilled.

When they have asked each other innumerable questions about different
matters that would concern the uninitiated world but little, but are
fraught with the utmost importance to them, they grow happily silent;
and, sitting hand in hand, look dreamily into the glowing embers of the
fire. Trifles light as air rise before them, and strengthen them in the
belief at which they have just arrived, that they have been devoted to
each other for years. All the old hasty words and angry looks are now to
be regarded as vague expressions of a love suppressed, because fearful
of a disdainful reception.

Presently, after a rather prolonged pause, Dulce, drawing a deep but
happy sigh, turns to him, and says, tenderly, though somewhat
regretfully:

"Ah! if only you had not stolen those chocolate creams!"

"I didn't steal them," protested Roger, as indignantly as a man can
whose arm is fondly clasped around the beloved of his heart.

"Well, of course, I mean if you hadn't _eaten_ them," says Dulce, sadly.

"But, my life, I never _saw_ them!" exclaims poor Roger, vehemently; "I
swear I didn't."

"Well, then, if I hadn't _said_ you did," says Dulce, mournfully.

"Ah! that indeed," says Mr. Dare, with corresponding gloom. "If you
hadn't all might now be well; as it is-- Do you know I have never since
seen one of those loathsome sweets without feeling positively murderous,
and shall hate chocolate to my dying day."

"It was a pity we fought about such a trifle," murmurs she, shaking her
head.

"Was it?" Turning to her, he lifts her face with his hand and gazes
intently into her eyes. Whatever he sees in those clear depths seem to
satisfy him and make glad his heart. "After all, I don't believe it
was," he says.

"Not a pity we quarreled, and--and lost each other?" Considering the
extremely close proximity to each other at this moment, the allusion to
the loss they are supposed to have sustained is not very affecting.

"No. Though we were rather in a hole now," says Mr. Dare, rather a