Things went smoothly, and so pleasantly, that he would gladly have
prolonged this form of courtship for a month or two longer, sooner than
risk a premature declaration. But more than one cause drove him to a
bolder course; his passion, which increased in violence by contact with
its beautiful object, and also a great uneasiness he felt at not hearing
from Phoebe. This silence was ominous. He and she knew each other, and
what the other was capable of. He knew she was the woman to cross the
seas after him, if Staines left the diggings, and any explanation took
place that might point to his whereabouts.

These double causes precipitated matters, and at last he began to throw
more devotion into his manner; and having so prepared her for a few
days, he took his opportunity and said, one day, "We are both unhappy.
Give me the right to console you."

She colored high, and said, "You have consoled me more than all the
world. But there is a limit; always will be."

One less adroit would have brought her to the point; but this artist
only sighed, and let the arrow rankle. By this means he out-fenced her;
for now she had listened to a declaration and not stopped it short.

He played melancholy for a day or two, and then he tried her another
way. He said, "I promised your dying husband to be your protector, and
a father to his child. I see but one way to keep my word, and that gives
me courage to speak--without that I never could. Rosa, I loved you years
ago, I am unmarried for your sake. Let me be your husband, and a father
to your child."

Rosa shook her head. "I COULD not marry again. I esteem you, I am very
grateful to you: and I know I behaved ill to you before. If I could
marry again, it would be you. But I cannot. Oh, never! never!"

"Then we both are to be unhappy all our days."

"I shall, as I ought to be. You will not, I hope. I shall miss you
sadly; but, for all that, I advise you to leave me. You will carry my
everlasting gratitude, go where you will; that and my esteem are all I
have to give."

"I will go," said he; "and I hope he who is gone will forgive my want of
courage."

"He who is gone took my promise never to marry again."

"Dying men see clearer. I am sure he wished--no matter; it is too
delicate." He kissed her hand and went out, a picture of dejection.

Mrs. Staines shed a tear for him.

Nothing was heard of him for several days; and Rosa pitied him more and
more, and felt a certain disconte