, the letter did not half prepare me for
all this! I _have_ liked you. I _do_ like you better than any man I
know," she said; and now her swimming eyes were fixed full on his, and
his lips were quivering in their eagerness to kiss away the tears, but
he drew her no closer.

"That in itself is more than I had a right to hope, that in itself
nerves me to tell you this. I go back to my duty with a stimulus and to
my temptations with a safeguard I never knew before. I never have been
worthy your faintest thought, much less your love."

"Mr. Ray, don't say that! I know well that no man who has been such a
friend of Mrs. Stannard's, such a friend to Captain Truscott and Grace,
_could_ be what you paint yourself. Oh, don't think--don't think for an
instant I undervalue the gift; you--you shall not speak of yourself that
way! Do you think any woman who deserves a thought could fail to glory
in such a name as you have won? Oh, Mr. Ray, Mr. Ray, I hardly realize
that it is possible that you care for me! You, so brave and loyal and
daring."

His eyes were blazing with a rapture he could not control. It was so
infinitely sweet to hear her praise.

"You make me hope in spite of yourself, Marion," he murmured, with
trembling eagerness. "Oh, think; look way down into your heart, and see
if you cannot find one little germ of love for me,--one that I may teach
to grow. Try, my darling, try. Ah, heaven! am I mad to-night?"

And now her head was drooping again and her heart beating. She felt that
since it had come she could not bid him go comfortless.

"Only within the last day or two," she whispered, "have I been thinking
that--that--I've been wondering how I dared write to you as I did when
you were--in Cheyenne, wondering whether--if Dandy were not yours
to-day--I could find courage to say what I did to Mr. Blake.
Does--that--tell you anything, Mr. Ray?"

"Marion! Marion! Oh, my darling! let me see your face."

She struggled one instant. She even hid it upon his breast, and the
helmet cords made their mark upon her blushing forehead; but quickly he
took her face between his strong, trembling hands, gently but firmly
raised it until his eyes could drink in every lovely feature, though the
fringed lids still hid from him the eyes he longed to see.

"Marion, sweet one. _Maidie!_ with all my life and strength I love you.
Have you not one little word for me?"

"What--must I say?" she murmured, at last, still shrouding her eyes.