Edgar Roberts could scarcely suppress an exclamation of joy and
surprise. His looks fully expressed how delighted he was.

Three months had he been striving for this, which, if he had only known
it, could have been obtained so easily through his friend and her
brother. But what was so difficult to win was the more highly prized.
What a happy day it was!

Annie was all he had believed her--charming in every way. Edgar made a
confidant of his friend; told him what Edward well knew before, but was
wise enough not to explain the mistake--of his hopes and fears; and won
from the prudent brother the promise to help him all he could.

Accompanying Annie home that evening, and gaining her permission for
him to call again, Edgar lost no time in doing so, and often repeated
the call.

Perhaps Annie thought him very fast in his wooing, and precipitate in
declaring his love, when, after only a fortnight visiting her, he said:

"Annie, do you like me well enough, and trust in me sufficiently, to
allow me to ask your mother to call me her son?"

Either so happy or so surprised was Annie, that she could not speak
just then. But roses crowded over her fair face, and she did not try
to withdraw the hand he had clasped.

"Say, Annie, love," he whispered. She raised her eyes to his with such
a strange, surprised look in them, that he laughed and said:

"You think I am very hasty, Annie. You don't know how long I've loved
you, and have waited for this hour."

"Long!--two weeks," she said.

"Why, Annie, darling, it is over three months since I've been able to
think of anything save Annie Grey--ever since the night I received my
diploma, and your sweet, encouraging bouquet, since that night I've
known and loved you. And how I've worked for this hour!"

And then he told her how it was. And when he had finished, she looked
at him, her eyes dancing merrily, and though she tried hard to keep the
little rosebud of a mouth demurely shut, it was no use--it would open
and let escape a rippling laugh, as she said:

"And this is the work my bouquet went about, is it? This is the good
it has done me--" She hesitated; the roses deepened their color as she
continued: "And you--"

"Yes, Annie, it has done much good to me, and I hope to you too."

"But, Edgar--" it was the first time she had called him thus, and how
happy it made him--"I must tell you the truth--I never sent you a
bouquet!"

"No! oh, do not say so. Can there be