nly care for me; such lots of candies and
pretty things."

"You saved my life, Tom," she returned, in that same thrilling whisper
which shook the very heart in his bosom.

"Oh, don't bring that up as a claim," he said; "what was I born for
except to be useful to you? But I love you so; if you could only make up
your mind to endure my ugliness and my awkward ways, and--and----"

"You are a great big fellow and I like that, and don't think you ugly,"
said Elsie; "and I don't care if you are awkward. I am sick of men that
walk about like ballet-dancers."

"You only say that out of good-nature," said Tom; "you are afraid of
hurting my feelings."

"Don't I always say what I think?" rejoined she.

"But you don't care for me--you couldn't love me!"

"You have told me so three times already," said Elsie.

But all the while there was something in her face and voice which made
him persevere. He had never thought to speak of his love to her again.
This was the last, last time; but he would open his whole heart now, she
should see the exact truth.

In his great excitement, Tom forgot all bashfulness; he did not halt in
his speech, but poured out his story in strong, manly words, that must
have awakened at least a feeling of respect in any woman's bosom.

"I tried to cure myself," continued Tom. "I thought absence--entire
change--might make a difference in my feelings. But when the two years
ended I came back, only to find my love grown deeper from the lapse of
time, with every feeling more firmly centred there. You speak kindly to
me sometimes. You pity me--at least you pity me! But you couldn't love
me, of course; that is impossible! Let me get up--I mustn't talk any
more--let me go!"

But Elsie's hand still rested upon his shoulder,--she did not stir.

"You could not love me," repeated Tom; "never, never: you have told me
so ever so many times."

"I was silly and wicked," she whispered; "I am wiser now."

Her words lifted Tom into the seventh heaven. He cried out:

"Don't trifle with me, Elsie--not just now--I couldn't stand it!"

"I am not trifling with you, Tom."

"You don't mean that you care for me?"

His voice was broken and low. He waited for her to push him away, to
break the spell rudely, but her hand never moved from his shoulder. It
seemed to rest there with a caressing pressure, as a bird settles on a
fondling hand, and still the fair curls swept his cheek.

"Elsie! Elsie!" he cried, half-wild wi