of your family," she murmured; "and think of
mine!"

Vendale drew her a little nearer to him.

"If you dwell on such an obstacle as that," he said, "I shall think but
one thought--I shall think I have offended you."

She started, and looked up. "O, no!" she exclaimed innocently. The
instant the words passed her lips, she saw the construction that might be
placed on them. Her confession had escaped her in spite of herself. A
lovely flush of colour overspread her face. She made a momentary effort
to disengage herself from her lover's embrace. She looked up at him
entreatingly. She tried to speak. The words died on her lips in the
kiss that Vendale pressed on them. "Let me go, Mr. Vendale!" she said
faintly.

"Call me George."

She laid her head on his bosom. All her heart went out to him at last.
"George!" she whispered.

"Say you love me!"

Her arms twined themselves gently round his neck. Her lips, timidly
touching his cheek, murmured the delicious words--"I love you!"

In the moment of silence that followed, the sound of the opening and
closing of the house-door came clear to them through the wintry stillness
of the street.

Marguerite started to her feet.

"Let me go!" she said. "He has come back!"

She hurried from the room, and touched Madame Dor's shoulder in passing.
Madame Dor woke up with a loud snort, looked first over one shoulder and
then over the other, peered down into her lap, and discovered neither
stockings, worsted, nor darning-needle in it. At the same moment,
footsteps became audible ascending the stairs. "Mon Dieu!" said Madame
Dor, addressing herself to the stove, and trembling violently. Vendale
picked up the stockings and the ball, and huddled them all back in a heap
over her shoulder. "Mon Dieu!" said Madame Dor, for the second time, as
the avalanche of worsted poured into her capacious lap.

The door opened, and Obenreizer came in. His first glance round the room
showed him that Marguerite was absent.

"What!" he exclaimed, "my niece is away? My niece is not here to
entertain you in my absence? This is unpardonable. I shall bring her
back instantly."

Vendale stopped him.

"I beg you will not disturb Miss Obenreizer," he said. "You have
returned, I see, without your friend?"

"My friend remains, and consoles our afflicted compatriot. A
heart-rending scene, Mr. Vendale! The household gods at the
pawnbroker's--the family immersed in tears. We all embra