ou."

"But, Rita--" he began, in expostulation.

"No--no, you must promise. You must swear--if you will hear."

"I promise. I swear if you wish. What can it be?"

Then she drew him to a settee, and with downcast eyes began her piteous
story.

"Monday evening Mr. Williams came to call upon me. You know you said I
must receive him kindly. I did so. And he again asked me to--to--you
know--to marry him. When I told him it was impossible, he grew angry;
and when I became frightened and tried to leave the room, he caught me
by the hand and would not let me go. Then he told me again how
desperately he cared for me; and when I answered angrily and tried to
escape, he held me and--and--oh, Dic, I can't tell you. I thought I
could, but I can't. I--I loathe myself." She bent her head forward, and
covering her face with her hands, sobbed convulsively.

"Go on, Rita. My God! you must tell me," demanded Dic.

"I know I must," she replied between sobs. "Oh, Dic, do not hate me. He
held me to him as you sometimes do,--but, oh, it was so different. I was
helpless, and he bent back my head and kissed me on the lips till I
thought I should faint."

"The cowardly hound. He shall pay dearly for his--"

"I have your promise, your oath," said the girl, interrupting him.

"But, Rita--"

"I trusted you, Dic, and I know you will faithfully keep your promise.
Father owes Williams a large sum of money, and Tom has been stealing
from him." Here she began to weep. "He will ruin father and send Tom to
the penitentiary if he learns that I have told you this. He told me he
would, and I promised I would tell no one; but my duty to you is higher
than my duty to keep my promise. Now you know why I held you off when we
came in here."

"No, I don't know," he replied. "You have not promised to marry him?"

"No, no," she returned excitedly.

"Then why did you refuse me?"

"I'm not worthy to be your wife. I feel that I have been contaminated,"
she answered.

"No, no, girl," he cried joyfully. "It was not your fault. The falling
snow is not purer than you, and truth itself is not truer than your
heart. I go to New York soon, and when I return all your troubles will
cease."

"They have ceased already, Dic," she murmured, placing her head upon his
breast, while tears fell unheeded over her cheeks. "I thought an hour
ago I should never again be happy, but I am happy already. Dic, you are
a wonderful man to produce such a change in so short a