aiting. How long have I wanted you, Audrey?--ten or twelve
years, at least. I begin to think that there never was such a fellow for
constancy.'

'Ten or twelve years! What can you mean, Michael?'

But she knew well enough what he meant, only she was woman enough to
love to hear him say it.

'Oh, it was quite twelve years ago! I can remember the occasion quite
well. You were in a short white frock, and you had your hair streaming
over your shoulders. You were such a pretty little girl, Audrey. I
admired you far more than I admired Gage, with all her regular
features.'

'Oh, what nonsense, Michael!'

'Nonsense! You will tell me next that you do not remember asking me to
give you a kiss. "I want to kiss you, Mike, because you are so nice and
smart." Do you think I shall ever forget that? I lost my heart to you
then.'

'You must not expect me to remember those things,' she returned,
blushing like a rose.

'No, darling, I suppose not; you were only a child then. But, all the
same, these memories are very sweet to me. You have been my one and only
love, and you know that now.'

'Oh, Michael!' And now the gray eyes filled with tears, for these words
sounded like a reproach to her.

'You must not misunderstand me,' he returned, shocked at her evident
misconception of his words. 'Do you think that I begrudge the love you
gave that poor fellow? Some day, when you are my wife, I will tell you
all I think on this subject; but not now--not to-night, of all nights,
when I know and feel for the first time that my treasure is in my own
keeping.'

And then he stopped, and, in rather an agitated voice, begged her that
he might not see tears in her dear eyes to-night.

'I did not mean to be foolish,' she returned, in a low voice; 'only,
when I think of all you have suffered, and how patient you have been,
and how beautifully you bore it all for our sakes, I feel as though I
should never make up to you for all you have gone through. Michael'--and
here her look was a little wistful--'are you sure that I shall never
disappoint you--that what I have to give will content you?'

But his answer fully satisfied her on this point. He was more than
content, he said; he needed no assurances of her affection--he would
never need them. The first look at her face had told him all he wanted
to know.

'I think I can read your very thoughts, Audrey--that I know you better
than you know yourself;' and as Michael said this there was a smil