d have but one meaning,--yet that was impossible!
Philip Van Reypen, the high-born, aristocratic Philip, couldn't be
seriously interested in a crude, ignorant Western girl!

"Thank you, Phil," she said, resolving to accept his words as a sign of
friendship, "you're awfully good to me, and your friendship counts. I
begin to think friendship is the one thing in life that does count. And
it is the friends I have made--lately,--here,--that have made me
see,--made me realise my own unworthiness,--and when I say that, I mean
it."

"I won't let you mean it!" he cried, "I won't let you call yourself
unworthy. For you count with me,--Azalea, more than the whole world!
More than anything or everything in the world. Can't I count that way
with you,--can't I, Azalea?"

The dark handsome face was very earnest, and as it drew nearer to her
own, and she looked deep in the eloquent eyes, she could no longer fail
to understand.

"What,--what,--" she murmured, drawing back in confusion, "what do you
mean?"

"Don't you know what I mean, Brownie? Listen, and I will tell you, then.
I love you, dear,--I love you." He held her hands in his own and gazed
into her face. "I can't tell you when it came or how,--but suddenly--I
knew it! I knew I loved you, and should always love you. Tell me,--tell
me, Azalea, that you can learn to love me."

"Oh, don't--I can't--"

"Not just at once, dear,--I can't hope for that. But, can't you
learn,--can't you try to learn--If I help you? Brownie,--that's all my
own name for you,--isn't it, you nutbrown maid! Brownie, darling,--you
_must_ love me. I can't bear it if you don't!"

Azalea looked mystified,--then amazed,--and then her face lighted up
with a sudden radiant happiness,--she seemed glorified, exalted.

Van Reypen caught her in his arms.

"You do love me,--you witch! you beauty! Azalea, you look transfigured!
You _do_ love me,--tell me so!"

Then her face changed. She repulsed him,--she sought to leave his
encircling clasp.

"Don't!" she cried, "don't! It is horrible!"

She burst into uncontrollable tears, and her whole frame shook with her
turbulent sorrow.

"Have I been too abrupt?" asked Van Reypen, filled with dismay. "Give me
a little hope, dear, just say you'll let me tell you this some other
time, and I'll not trouble you now."

"Oh, it isn't _that_," Azalea sobbed, "it's--oh, _no_! I _can't_ tell
you,--it's too _dreadful_! Let me go!" and she ran from him and hurried
back to