you, have you not?"

"Yes," she said, gently. "I have seen it."

"You know the reason now. I could not bear to see you and feel what you
must be thinking of me. And then--then--I found that it was misery to be
without you. I found that I missed you inexpressibly. I did not know
till then how dear you had grown to me."

She did not move, she did not speak, she only sat and listened, with her
eyes fixed upon her folded hands. But there was nothing forbidding in
her silence. He felt that he might go on.

"It comes to this with me," he said, "that I cannot bear to meet you as
I meet an ordinary friend or acquaintance. I would rather know that I
shall never see you again. Either you must be all to me--or nothing. I
know that it must be nothing, and so--I am going to California."

"Do not go," she said, without looking up. She spoke coldly, he thought,
but sweetly, too.

"I must," he answered. "I must--in spite of the joy that it is to me to
be even in your presence, and to hear your voice--I must go. I cannot
bear it. I love you too well. It is a greater pain than I can bear, to
look at you and to know that I can bring you no comfort, no solace; that
your heart is buried with Richard Luttrell in a grave."

"You are mistaken," she said again. Then, in a faltering voice, "you can
bring me comfort. I shall be sorry if you are away."

He caught his breath. "Do you mean it, Angela?" he cried, eagerly.
"Think what you are saying, do not tell me to stay unless--unless--you
can give me a little hope. Is it possible that you do not forbid me to
love you? Do you think that in time--in time--I might win your love?"

"Not in time," she murmured, "but now--now."

He could hardly believe his ears. He knelt down beside her, and took her
hands in his. "Now, Angela?" he said. "Can you love me now? Oh, my love,
my love! tell me the truth! Have you forgiven me?"

Her eyes were swimming in tears, but she gave him a glance of so much
tenderness and trust, that he never again doubted her entire
forgiveness. She might never forget Richard Luttrell, but her heart,
with all its wealth of love, was given to the man who knelt before her,
not buried in a grave.

* * * * *

Of course he did not go to California. The project was an utterly
unsuitable one, and nobody scouted it more disdainfully than did he as
soon as the mood of discontent was past. If a crowning touch were needed
to the happiness of Brian an