r this flash
with another, and a general explosion ensue, or wisely quench the flame
with the mild answer which turneth away wrath. He chose the latter
course and made it very effective by throwing himself down before his
offended goddess, as he had often done in jest. This time it was not
acting, but serious, earnest, and there was real passion in his voice
as he caught Rose's dress in both hands, saying eagerly: "No, no! Don't
shut your heart against me or I shall turn desperate. I'm not half good
enough for such a saint as you, but you can do what you will with me. I
only need a motive to make a man of me, and where can I find a stronger
one than in trying to keep your love?"

"It is not yours yet," began Rose, much moved, though all the while she
felt as if she were on a stage and had a part to play, for Charlie
had made life so like a melodrama that it was hard for him to be quite
simple even when most sincere.

"Let me earn it, then. Show me how, and I'll do anything, for you are my
good angel, Rose, and if you cast me off, I feel as if I shouldn't care
how soon there was an end of me," cried Charlie, getting tragic in his
earnestness and putting both arms around her, as if his only safety lay
in clinging to this beloved fellow creature.

Behind footlights it would have been irresistible, but somehow it did
not touch the one spectator, though she had neither time nor skill to
discover why. For all their ardor the words did not ring quite true.
Despite the grace of the attitude, she would have liked him better
manfully erect upon his feet, and though the gesture was full of
tenderness, a subtle instinct made her shrink away as she said with
a composure that surprised herself even more than it did him: "Please
don't. No, I will promise nothing yet, for I must respect the man I
love."

That brought Charlie to his feet, pale with something deeper than anger,
for the recoil told him more plainly than the words how much he had
fallen in her regard since yesterday. The memory of the happy moment
when she gave the rose with that new softness in her eyes, the shy
color, the sweet "for my sake" came back with sudden vividness,
contrasting sharply with the now averted face, the hand outstretched to
put him back, the shrinking figure, and in that instant's silence, poor
Charlie realized what he had lost, for a girl's first thought of love is
as delicate a thing as the rosy morning glory, which a breath of air
can shatter