“I have heard that you are allied to a noble house—that you are some time to inherit great possessions and a title, though just what that title is I know not; and I fear that your proud kinsmen will scorn the idea of a poor, friendless waif like me becoming your wife!” “Who informed you that I was heir to such ‘great expectations,’” he asked, with a quiet smile. “It was spoken of often by Mrs. Coolidge and her daughter.” “And do you deem yourself unworthy to be my wife on account of your poverty?” “No!” and the bright head was lifted proudly now, the lovely eyes glowed with a fire which told that, despite her lack of wealth and position, she considered herself the equal of the proudest in the land. “What then? Suppose you and I were suddenly to change places, would you deem me to be unworthy to be your husband because I had lost my wealth?” “No! I should be proud——” He stopped her lips with tender kisses. “And I, my darling, should be proud to call you my wife were you the lowliest-born in all England. But you are not; you are my equal in birth and station, and it is only an accident which has placed you where any one is liable to be. A man often misses his expectations, and I am only plain Adrian Dredmond as yet; surely you are not afraid of me, if you are of those whom you choose to term my high-born kinsmen.” Brownie nestled closer to him as she replied, with dignity: “I am afraid of no one, yet one naturally shrinks from bringing contempt upon one whom one loves, and you know the ways of the world, Adrian.” “You never can bring contempt upon me. The world may say what it pleases—and I warn you it will not dare say very much, and since I am of age, and capable of choosing my own wife, I think we will call no one else into the consultation,” he said, decisively. Brownie laughed at his way of settling the matter. “You have not answered me yet, darling,” he added, a moment after; “you have given yourself to me?” “Yes, Adrian, I am proud to give myself to you.” “And you will be my wife?” drawing her closer. “Yes.” “Whenever I say?” She lifted her eyes again to read his, but their light dazzled her, and with her own lashes drooping shyly upon her crimson cheeks, she murmured: “Whenever you will, dear.” “Then, my Brownie, with your permission, I will see Lady Ruxley immediately, after which I shall wish to introduce you to those high-born kinsmen of mine.” “Not to-day, Adrian, please. I cannot bear you to speak to Lady Ruxley to-day. I have hardly got used to my own happiness yet. Let it rest until we go back to the villa, and then I will not say you nay,” pleaded the young girl, earnestly. Her joy was something so new and sacred that she felt unwilling to impart the knowledge of it yet to any one.