beyond all!"

"My lady--O my lady!" cried Mrs. Agatha, "Heaven send you happiness now
and ever--both!" Then stooping, she kissed my lady's hand and was gone.

My lady crossed the room and seated herself in the Major's great
elbow-chair while he, sitting on a corner of the desk gazed down at her
with eyes of rapture.

"Well, Major John?"

"How--beautiful you are!" he sighed and she actually blushed and bowed
her head.

"O--John!" she whispered.

"Surely many have told you so before?"

"Hosts, of course, dear Major!" she nodded.

"Aye, I fear I'm not very original," he sighed, "I'm awkward, I know,
tongue-tied and mute when I would speak; but dear, my love doth 'whelm
me so--poor, futile words are lost----"

"'Deed, sir," she answered demurely, "I find no fault with your powers
of converse more especially when you grow personal. That remark, now,
'beautiful' was the word I think, being a woman such will never tire
me--as you say them."

"Yet I do but echo what others have said before me."

"Aye, but you say it as no other man ever did--you speak it so
sincerely and reverently as it had been a prayer, John."

"God knoweth I'm sincere, Betty."

"So do I, John," and taking the rosebud from the desk she began to open
its petals with gentle fingers. So the Major sat gazing at her,
wishing that she would lift her eyes and she, knowing this, kept them
lowered of course.

"John," said she at last.

"Betty?"

"Sometimes you do seem almost--afraid to--touch me."

"I am."

"And wherefore?"

"Because even now there are times when I scarce can credit my wondrous
happiness, scarce believe you can really love--such as I----"

"None the less I shall convince you once and for all--one day, Master
Humility!"

And now she lifted her head at last and looked at him, and, thrilling
to the revelation of that look, he leaned swiftly down to her, but then
she put up gentle hand and stayed him.

"John," she murmured, "dear, when you look at me so you are not a bit
humble, I know not if I fear you or--love you most. Stay, John, if my
hair should come down and anyone see I--O then quick, John--there's
aunt calling! Let us join the company ere we are fetched like truants.
She is out on the terrace with Pancras and Mr. Marchdale who is a
trifle trying at times being over-youthful and very soberly adoring.
'Chaste hour, soft hour, O hour when first we met!'" she quoted.
"Indeed," she laughed, "'tis a very worshipful,