The Major, too, blanched a little. "I put my question conditionally," he answered, "and I have got, as I deserved, a conditional reply. I will speak plainly, then, Miss Whittaker. _Do_ you value the fact for your own sake? It would be plainer still to say, Do you love me? but I confess I'm not brave enough for that. I will say, Can you? or I will even content myself with putting it in the conditional again, and asking you if you could; although, after all, I hardly know what the _if_ understood can reasonably refer to. I'm not such a fool as to ask of any woman--least of all of you--to love me contingently. You can only answer for the present, and say yes or no. I shouldn't trouble you to say either, if I didn't conceive that I had given you time to make up your mind. It doesn't take forever to know James Luttrel. I'm not one of the great unfathomable ones. We've seen each other more or less intimately for a good many weeks; and as I'm conscious, Miss Whittaker, of having shown you my best, I take it for granted that if you don't fancy me now, you won't a month hence, when you shall have seen my faults. Yes, Miss Whittaker, I can solemnly say," continued the Major, with genuine feeling, "I have shown you my best, as every man is in honor bound to do who approaches a woman with those predispositions with which I have approached you. I have striven hard to please you,"--and he paused. "I can only say, I hope I have succeeded." "I should be very insensible," said Gertrude, "if all your kindness and your courtesy had been lost upon me." "In Heaven's name, don't talk about courtesy," cried the Major. "I am deeply conscious of your devotion, and I am very much obliged to you for urging your claims so respectfully and considerately. I speak seriously, Major Luttrel," pursued Gertrude. "There is a happy medium of expression, and you have taken it. Now it seems to me that there is a happy medium of affection, with which you might be content. Strictly, I don't love you. I question my heart, and it gives me that answer. The feeling that I have is not a feeling to work prodigies." "May it at least work the prodigy of allowing you to be my wife?" "I don't think I shall over-estimate its strength, if I say that it may. If you can respect a woman who gives you her hand in cold blood, you are welcome to mine." Luttrel moved his chair and took her hand. "Beggars can't be choosers," said he, raising it to his mustache. "O Major Luttrel, don't say that," she answered. "I give you a great deal; but I keep a little,--a little," said Gertrude, hesitating, "which I suppose I shall give to God." "Well, I shall not be jealous," said Luttrel. "The rest I give to you, and in return I ask a great deal." "I shall give you all. You know I told you I'm not religious." "No, I don't want more than I give," said Gertrude. "But, pray," asked Luttrel, with a delicate smile, "what am I to do with the difference?"