the
time in love as far as I believe, and it seems a confused period.'

I waited for him to continue, my eyes discreetly lowered. As, however,
he did not go on, I raised them again.

'Yes?' I said encouragingly.

'That's all,' he replied. He looked so embarrassed and unhappy, and
wore such an imploring expression I realized that now or never I must
come to his relief.

I laid down my knitting and leaned forward. 'Mr. Rawlings,' I said
impressively--'or, shall I say William--I have known of the state of
your feelings towards me for some time now.'

He raised his head, and there was no disguising the look of hope in his
eye. 'Do you really mean that?' he asked eagerly.

I nodded. 'I want to tell you not to be afraid. However harsh I once
seemed to you, the sight of your devotion and self-sacrifice has
touched me.'

'Devotion--self-sacrifice,' he murmured in a wondering tone.

'As such do I regard them, William. But they have reaped their reward.
I . . . how shall I tell you . . . it is so difficult . . .'

I paused in some distress, wondering if Queen Victoria had felt as
uncomfortable about it as I did.

'I want to tell you that . . . I love you, William,' I said at last,
very softly.

There was an intense silence, broken only by his laboured breathing.
The intensity of his emotions was evidently too much for him.

'And so,' I concluded, raising my eyes to his for a moment, 'I am going
to be your wife.'

There! It was out at last. Having spoken I lowered my eyes again and
did not look at him until I heard him say in a strained kind of voice,
'But--but--this is too much honour. Believe me, Miss Warrington, I am
not worthy----'

'I think you are,' I replied softly, 'and isn't that enough?'

'It isn't enough--I assure you it isn't,' he replied. I noted that his
eyes had a rather staring look and slight beads of perspiration had
broken out on his forehead--he must be a man of strong emotions. 'It
would be a most unfair thing for a man like me, with all my
shortcomings, to inflict myself on any woman.'

'Don't be too modest about yourself,' I put in encouragingly, and
somewhat timidly laying my hand on his, I added, 'I like you as you
are.'

'Nothing would induce me to let you sacrifice yourself,' he exclaimed
hotly, 'it would be monstrous, intolerable!' He sprang to his feet as
he spoke. 'I must go at once,' he went on, 'we can never meet again,
never, never!'

I rose also, going rather