wavered from his.

"I suppose I'm a brute," Ralph said, huskily, "but God knows I haven't
meant to be."

Araminta smiled--a sweet, uncomprehending smile. Ralph possessed
himself of her hand. It was warm and steady--his own was cold and
tremulous.

"Child," he said, "did any one ever kiss you before?"

"No," replied Araminta; "only Aunt Hitty. It was when I was a baby and
she thought I was lost. She kissed me--here." Araminta pointed to her
soft cheek. "Did you kiss me because I was well?"

Ralph shook his head despairingly. "The man in the book kissed the
lady," went on Araminta, happily, "because he was so glad they were to
talk together again, but we--why, I shall never see you any more," she
concluded, sadly.

His fingers tightened upon hers. "Yes," he said, in a strange voice,
"we shall see each other again."

"They both seem very well," sighed Araminta, referring to Aunt Hitty
and Mr. Thorpe, "and even if I fell off of a ladder again, it might not
hurt me at all. I have fallen from lots of places and only got black
and blue. I never broke before."

"Listen, child," said Ralph. "Would you rather live with Aunt Hitty,
or with me?"

"Why, Doctor Ralph! Of course I'd rather live with you, but Aunt Hitty
would never let me!"

"We're not talking about Aunt Hitty now. Is there anyone in the world
whom you like better than you do me?"

"No," said Araminta, softly, her eyes shining. "How could there be?"

"Do you love me, Araminta?"

"Yes," she answered, sweetly, "of course I do! You've been so good to
me!"

The tone made the words meaningless. "Child," said Ralph, "you break
my heart."

He walked back and forth again, restlessly, and Araminta watched him,
vaguely troubled. What in the world had she done?

Meanwhile, he was meditating. He could not bear to have her go back to
her prison, even for a little while. Had he found her only to lose
her, because she had no soul?

Presently he came back to her and stood by her chair. "Listen, dear,"
he said, tenderly. "You told me there was no one in the world for whom
you cared more than you care for me. You said you loved me, and I love
you--God knows I do. If you'll trust me, Araminta, you'll never be
sorry, never for one single minute as long as you live. Would you like
to live with me in a little house with roses climbing over it, just us
two alone?"

"Yes," returned Araminta, dreamily, "and I could keep the little cat."

"You