"It may have been only play to you, and so easily forgotten," he went

on, bitterly. "But that is a dangerous game, very certain to hurt some

one. Miss Naida, your face, your eyes, even your lips almost

continually tell me one thing; your words another. I know not which to

trust. I never meet you except to go away baffled and bewildered."

"You wish to know the truth?"

"Ay, and for ail time! Are you false, or true? Coquette, or woman?

Do you simply play with hearts for idle amusement, or is there some

true purpose ruling your actions?"

She looked directly at him, her hands clasped, her breath almost

sobbing between the parted lips. At first she could not speak. "Oh,

you hurt me so," she faltered at last. "I did not suppose you could

ever think that. I--I did not mean it; oh, truly I did not mean it!

You forget how young I am; how very little I know of the world and its

ways. Perhaps I have not even realized how deeply in earnest you were,

have deceived myself into believing you were merely amusing yourself

with me. Why, indeed, should I think otherwise? How could I venture

to believe you would ever really care in that way for such a waif as I?

You have seen other women in that great Eastern world of which I have

only read--refined, cultured, princesses, belonging to your own social

circle,--how should I suppose you could forget them, and give your

heart to a little outcast, a girl without a name or a home? Rather

should it be I who might remain perplexed and bewildered."

"I love you," he said, with simple honesty. "I seek you for my wife."

She started at these frankly spoken words, her hands partially

concealing her face, her form trembling. "Oh, I wish you hadn't said

that! It is not because I doubt you any longer; not that I fail to

appreciate all you offer me. But it is so hard to appear ungrateful,

to give nothing in return for so vast a gift."

"Then it is true that you do not love me?"

The blood flamed suddenly up into her face, but there was no lowering

of the eyes, no shrinking back. She was too honest to play the coward

before him.

"I shall not attempt to deceive you," she said, with a slow

impressiveness instantly carrying conviction. "This has already

progressed so far that I now owe you complete frankness. Donald Brant,

now and always, living or dead, married or single, wherever life may

take us, I shall love you."




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