and bruised by the hard things of life. The world is cruel
and you are so--sweet. You need some one to take care of you----"

"Yes," she whispered; "but there isn't any one."

"Except me. And I'm such an old fellow--years too old for you. But I'm
alone, and you're alone. Could I make you happy, Betty child?"

She stared at him, all the bright color gone from her face.

"Why, how?" Her voice fluttered and died.

"As my wife. There's the big house on the rocks that I am building."

He faltered. The great house had been built for Diana, on a sudden
hopeful impulse that when it was finished she would consent to be its
mistress.

"There's the big house," he went on, after a moment, "and there's money
enough and to spare. Not that I want you to marry me for that, but I
think I could comfort you in your loneliness, Bettina."

In her secluded girlhood there had been no opportunity for masculine
adoration; hence there seemed nothing lacking when this man of men,
whose coming during her mother's illness had made the one bright spot in
her day, whose sympathy had comforted her in her sorrow, whose
friendship had sustained her in the months which had followed her great
loss, when he spoke of marriage with never a word of love.

"But I'm not wise enough or good enough," she said, with a quick catch
of her breath.

He drew her to him, holding her gently.

"Would you like," he asked, "would you like to think that all your life
I should take care of you?"

She lay quietly, not answering for a while, then she whispered, "Do you
really want me?"

Perhaps his arm relaxed a little, but his voice was very steady. "I
really want to make you happy."

"And you'll let me love you with all my heart?" Her eyes were hidden.

He put his hand against the softness of her hair, turning her face up
toward him. "I shall hope that you may love me with all your heart, and
that I may be worthy of it."

Her hand crept up and touched his cheek. "Kiss me," she whispered, like
a child.

He would have been less than a man if his heart had not leaped a little,
if he had not responded to the love call of this wistful white and gold
woman creature.

"My dear," he said, brokenly, and bent his head.

On the foggy streets below men and women passed and repassed like ghosts
in the stillness. Little Miss Matthews, meeting Captain Stubbs on a
street corner, was unconscious of his nearness until the little captain,
guided by that sixth sense, whic