ll that this man
said and did--a man to rely on, a very tower of strength; a man to
protect her, a man to whom she could take her troubles and her secrets,
knowing full well that he would not fail her.

And while these thoughts passed in her mind she sat there silently, her
hand in his, and never thought to draw it away.

"Joan, will you be my wife, dear? I am asking for more than I could ever
deserve. There is nothing about me that makes me worthy of that great
happiness and honour, save one thing--my love for you."

"And yet," she said, and broke her silence for the first time, "there is
one question that you do not ask me, Johnny."

"One question?"

"You do not ask me if I love you!"

"How can I ask for the impossible, the unlikely? There is nothing in me
for such a girl as you to love."

"There is much in you for any woman to love. There is honesty and truth
and bravery, and a clean sweet mind. I know all that, I know that you
are a good man, Johnny. I know that; but oh, I do not love you!"

"I know," he said sadly. "I know that." And his hand seemed to slip away
from hers.

"And you would not--not take me--Johnny, without love?" she asked, and
her voice trembled.

"Joan, I--I don't understand. I am a foolish, dense fellow, dear, and I
don't understand!"

She turned to him, and now her eyes met his frankly, and never had he
seen them so soft, so tender, so filled with a strange and wonderful
light, the light that is born of tenderness and sympathy and kindliness.

"Would you make me your wife, Johnny, knowing that I--I do not love you
as a woman should love the man she takes for her husband."

"I--I would try to teach you, dear. I would try to win a little of your
heart."

"And that would content you, Johnny?"

"It must. I dare not ask too much, and I--I--love you so!"

_("I glory in it. I take not one word of it lack!")_

Hateful words, words she could never forget, that came back to torture
and fill her with a sense of shame. Strange that they were dinning in
her memory, even now.

_("I glory in it. I take not one word back!")_

And then suddenly she made a gesture, as to fling off remembrance. She
turned more fully to him, and her eyes met his frankly.

"I do not love you, dear, as a woman should love the man she mates with;
but I like you. I honour you and trust you, and if--if you will take me
as I am, not asking for too much, not asking, dear, for more than I can
give--"

"Joan," he