"I have not the power to say all I feel. My words sound so harsh and cold; but, Liane, Liane, I love you! God made not the heart of man to be silent, but has promised him eternity with the intention that he should not be alone. There is for me but one woman upon earth. It is you." He looked imploringly into her face. "Yes, George, I feel that you love me," she said, with a sweet smile behind her veil. "It is very nice to be loved." He covered her hand with eager kisses; but she withdrew it softly, her lips compressed. "My darling!" His arm was about her waist, and he kissed her lips. He spoke in strong suppressed agitation; his voice trembled. He recollected he was penniless. She freed herself from his embrace. "No, no," she murmured. "We may love, but we must not marry. There are so many other girls who would make you far happier than I should." He went on to tell her how much he reverenced her character, how good and pure and lovely she was, and how completely she fulfilled his ideal of what a woman ought to be. Slowly she shook her head. "That shows you know so little of me, George." "I know only what you have told me, dearest," he answered. Then a moment later he regretted that he had not adhered to his resolve and exercised more self-control. Was he not without means? Yet he had asked her to marry him! Could he tell her in the same breath that he was penniless? No, he dared not, lest she might cast him aside. Liane stood like one in a dream, her beautiful face suffused by blushes, her eyes downcast, her breast slowly heaving. He could resist his own passion--he could keep back what he felt--no longer. "I love you!" cried he. She stretched out her hands in a sort of mute appeal, and seemed as if she would fall; but in that instant she was again clasped to his heart, and held there with a tender force that she had neither the power nor the will to withstand. He wished to marry her! Was it possible? And she loved him. With that thought her face was hidden on his shoulder, and she yielded herself to those protecting arms. He felt the shy loving movement as she nestled close to him, and her frame was shaken by a sob. "My darling--my darling--my own darling!" he cried, triumph in his voice, and passionate joy in his eyes. "You love me--you love me!" But again she drew herself away from him, then turned aside, held her breath, and shuddered. The lace ruffles on her bosom slowly rose and fell. The movement was as though she were shrinking from him with repulsion. But it was only momentary, and he did not notice it. Next instant she again turned, lifting her clear grey eyes to his with their frank innocent gaze. "Yes," she said, almost in a whisper, "I love you." CHAPTER FOUR. HAIRPINS.