adily promised to do
as Mr. Knight wished, though she feared she might never again have the
opportunity.

"Now that the ice has been broken, and I know who you are, tell me
something of your life among the mountains," said her friend. "I fear it
must have been a very dreary and monotonous one."

"It was a very quiet and peaceful one," Virgie answered with a sigh, as
she thought of the storms she had buffeted since. "Papa's claim proved to
be an excellent one, and he made a good deal of money from it; and after
we became somewhat used to the change in our life, it was not so bad."

"But all his earnings there had to be sacrificed also. My poor child; what
a hard lot has been yours! I almost wonder at your having any faith
whatever in human nature," said Mr. Knight, feelingly.

"I am sure that <i>you</i> have proved to me that there is at least one noble
man in the world," Virgie returned, gratefully. "I shall never forget your
kindness to me, Mr. Knight; you have been a true friend to me."

The publisher leaned eagerly forward, and gathered her hands in his; her
words had inspired him with hope.

"Let me be more than a friend to you, dear," he pleaded. "Let me take care
of you and your little one in the future. I know that I am much older than
you--old enough almost to be your father; but my home is lonely. I lost my
wife ten years ago. I have no children, and my heart is hungry for some
one to love. Dear child, you have been growing very dear to me ever since
you first came to me, and if you can trust me, if you can give yourself to
me, I will not ask too much, or even expect that you can feel a great deal
of affection for me, for I know how sorely you have been tried and
deceived in that respect; but let me persuade you to come to my home as my
honored wife, and I will surround you with tenderest care. Life shall be
made as pleasant as possible for you, and there will be no need of your
toiling any more."

Virgie sat as one stunned after this unexpected proposal.

She had never thought of anything like this during all her intercourse
with the kind-hearted publisher. She had learned to esteem him very highly
for his goodness to her, and to look up to him almost as to a father, but
the thought of ever being any man's wife again had never occurred to her.

She grew very pale at his words, and instinctively shrank a little from
him.

That act told him far more than words could have done, and he knew at once
that