"Yes, yes! Let us speak of it!" a wild despair in her voice and gesture. "Let us speak of it, since I do nothing but think of it, think of it, think of it! Oh! I am utterly shameless, but I can not fight any longer. I have no longer any pride. I should despise you, but I do not. I should hate you, but I can not ... No, no! Stay where you are." "Patty, do you love me?" There was a note in his voice as vibrant as the second string of a cello. "Yes." "Do you still believe that I am a blackguard?" "I care not what you are or what you have been; nothing, nothing. It is only what you have been to me and what you still are. Something is wrong; something is terribly wrong; I know not what it is. Surely God would not let me love you as I do if you were not worthy." "No," he replied gravely; "God would not do that." The tears rolled down Patty's cheeks, but there was no sound. "Here, Patty; read this letter which I was about to send you." She accepted it dumbly. Then, through her tears there came wonder and joy and sunshine. When she had done, he held out his hand for the letter; but she smiled and shook her head. "No, Richard; this is my first love-letter." The End