"Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how I wake and passionate watches keep; And yet while I address thee now, Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep. 'Tis sweet enough to make me weep, That tender thought of love and thee, That while the world is hushed in sleep, Thy soul's perhaps awake to me." It was almost midnight, yet Love Ellsworth's lamp still burned dimly as he sat by his open window in the flood of white moonlight, going over and over in his mind the events of the day, unable to turn his thoughts from the artless little beauty who had charmed him so. He was five-and-twenty, and he had had his little fancies and flirtations, like most young men of his age, but this was the first time that his heart had been really touched. Love's glamour was upon him, and he could not rest or sleep for thinking of shy, winsome Dainty, whose charms had wiled the heart from his breast, so that it was with difficulty he had refrained from declaring his love and begging for her heart in return. He mused, tenderly: "How it would have startled her--shy little dove--if I had followed my impulse to tell her of my love during that blissful drive over from the station! But I must be patient, and woo her fondly a little while ere I dare to speak." How vexed he was at his step-mother's selfishness in keeping Dainty by her side the whole evening, and leaving him to be entertained by the other two girls, whom he secretly despised for their meanness to Dainty. It made him smile sarcastically to remember how palpably each girl had angled for his heart, giving him the sweetest smiles and most honeyed words, while expressing their chagrin at missing his company on their journey. "If they could have guessed how glad I was of their absence, they would not have seemed so complaisant," he thought, recalling the happy day he had spent with Dainty; while he resolved to make sure of more like it by inviting some other fellows to Ellsworth, so that Olive and Ela might be provided with escorts, and not keep him from Dainty's side. Before long, say a week at furthest, he would tell Dainty of his love, and ask her to be his wife. No use putting off his happiness, he thought; and if he could win the little darling, the wedding should follow soon--as soon as he could persuade her to name the day. So, lost in these happy reveries, he sat at the open window till midnight, when he suddenly rose, stretched his full length, and exclaimed: "Heigh-ho! I must not dream here all night, for--ah, _what_ was that?" For down the length of the broad corridor a piercing shriek was wafted to his ears, followed by the patter of flying feet, and a body was hurled violently against the door, while an anguished voice cried, entreatingly: "For God's sake, let me in!" He sprang to the door, tore it open, and the fainting form of Dainty fell forward into his arms.