I forgive you."

Rosa leaned her head tenderly on his shoulder, and began to sigh. "Oh,
dear, dear! I am a wicked, foolish girl, not fit to walk alone."

On this admission, Christopher spoke out, and urged her to put an end to
all these unhappy misunderstandings, and to his new torment, jealousy,
by marrying him.

"And so I would this very minute, if papa would consent. But," said she,
slyly, "you never can be so foolish to wish it. What! a wise man like
you marry a simpleton!"

"Did I ever call you that?" asked Christopher, reproachfully.

"No, dear; but you are the only one who has not; and perhaps I should
lose even the one, if you were to marry me. Oh, husbands are not so
polite as lovers! I have observed that, simpleton or not."

Christopher assured her that he took quite a different view of her
character; he believed her to be too profound for shallow people to read
all in a moment: he even intimated that he himself had experienced no
little difficulty in understanding her at odd times. "And so," said he,
"they turn round upon you, and instead of saying, 'We are too shallow to
fathom you,' they pretend you are a simpleton."

This solution of the mystery had never occurred to Rosa, nor indeed
was it likely to occur to any creature less ingenious than a lover: it
pleased her hugely; her fine eyes sparkled, and she nestled closer still
to the strong arm that was to parry every ill, from mortal disease to
galling epithets.

She listened with a willing ear to all his reasons, his hopes, his
fears, and, when they reached her father's door, it was settled that
he should dine there that day, and urge his suit to her father after
dinner. She would implore the old gentleman to listen to it favorably.

The lovers parted, and Christopher went home like one who has awakened
from a hideous dream to daylight and happiness.

He had not gone far before he met a dashing dogcart, driven by an
exquisite. He turned to look after it, and saw it drive up to Kent
Villa.

In a moment he divined his rival, and a sickness of heart came over him.
But he recovered himself directly, and said, "If that is the fellow, she
will not receive him now."

She did receive him though: at all events, the dogcart stood at the
door, and its master remained inside.

Christopher stood, and counted the minutes: five, ten, fifteen, twenty
minutes, and still the dogcart stood there.

It was more than he could bear. He turned savagely, and strod