deepened, then paled, and she bit her lip to hide its quivering.
Putting them aside, she held for a moment, in hands that trembled
slightly, another letter, and presently she began to read it:

"_December 30th_.

"I can wait no longer, Claudia. Words are not for love like mine;
but you, who gave it life, will understand it without words. I
believed I had put it from me--the thought of marriage--for almost I
had lost my faith in the love for which I looked, and with compromise
I could not be content. Perhaps I had no right to ask for what few
find in life, but I did ask it, and when you came I knew my dreaming
had come true. Will you marry me, Claudia? So infinitely I love
you, want you, need you, that the days ahead until I win you--for I
shall win you--are dark and dreaded. All of your love, its supremest
best, I want; but if for mine, which is beyond all measure, you can
give me now but little, give it and let me come to you. I must come.
I am coming. And believe me always Yours,

"WINTHROP LAINE."

The pages dropped slowly in her lap, and, leaning back in her chair,
Claudia closed her eyes and pressed her hands against them tightly.
For some time she sat thus, then took up the last letter and read
that also.

"_December 31st_.

"It is within an hour of midnight, Claudia. Soon the new year will
be with us and the old one gone--the one that brought you to me.
Almost the year had gone before I met you, but time is more than days
and weeks, and that of ours together has been the real living of my
life. In the stillness of my room I drop my book and dream that you
are with me. On the street I hurry home to you; and once I stopped
and bought you flowers--and in the darkness threw them away. To have
you really here, to know that you are waiting--

"The new year has come, Claudia. The bells are striking the hour.
It must, it shall bring you to me. I am asking much when I ask you
to marry me, to leave your home to make a home for me. Your infinite
love for Elmwood is understood well. Its old-world air of dignity
and charm, of gracious courtesy and fine friendships, of proud
memories and gentle peace, could scarce find counterpart elsewhere on
earth, and yet in the days to come would it content alone, Claudia?
For my great need of you might there not be some little need of me?
Tell me I may come; but, whether you tell me or not, I am coming.

"WINTHROP LAINE."

Claudia put the pa