“Oh, but I didn't know, I didn't know,” she moaned, twisting her hands nervously. “And now, when you've been so brave, so true--for me to accuse you of--Oh, can you _ever_ forgive me? But you see, knowing that you _did_ care for her, it did look--” She choked into silence, and turned away her head. He glanced at her tenderly, mournfully. “Yes,” he said, after a minute, in a low voice. “I can see how it did look; and so I'm going to tell you now something I had meant never to tell you. There really couldn't have been anything in that, you see, for I found out long ago that it was gone--whatever love there had been for--Billy.” “But your--tiger skin!” “Oh, yes, I thought it was alive,” smiled Arkwright, sadly, “when I asked you to help me fight it. But one day, very suddenly, I discovered that it was nothing but a dead skin of dreams and memories. But I made another discovery, too. I found that just beyond lay another one, and that was very much alive.” “Another one?” Alice turned to him in wonder. “But you never asked me to help you fight--that one!” He shook his head. “No; I couldn't, you see. You couldn't have helped me. You'd only have hindered me.” “Hindered you?” “Yes. You see, it was my love for--you, that I was fighting--then.” Alice gave a low cry and flushed vividly; but Arkwright hurried on, his eyes turned away. “Oh, I understand. I know. I'm not asking for--anything. I heard some time ago of your engagement to Calderwell. I've tried many times to say the proper, expected pretty speeches, but--I couldn't. I will now, though. I do. You have all my tenderest best wishes for your happiness--dear. If long ago I hadn't been such a blind fool as not to know my own heart--” “But--but there's some mistake,” interposed Alice, palpitatingly, with hanging head. “I--I'm not engaged to Mr. Calderwell.” Arkwright turned and sent a keen glance into her face. “You're--not?” “No.” “But I heard that Calderwell--” He stopped helplessly. “You heard that Mr. Calderwell was engaged, very likely. But--it so happens he isn't engaged--to me,” murmured Alice, faintly. “But, long ago you said--” Arkwright paused, his eyes still keenly searching her face. “Never mind what I said--long ago,” laughed Alice, trying unsuccessfully to meet his gaze. “One says lots of things, at times, you know.” Into Arkwright's eyes came a new light, a light that plainly needed but a breath to fan it into quick fire. “Alice,” he said softly, “do you mean that maybe now--I needn't try to fight--that other tiger skin?” There was no answer. Arkwright reached out a pleading hand. “Alice, dear, I've loved you so long,” he begged unsteadily. “Don't you think that sometime, if I was very, very patient, you could just _begin_--to care a little for me?”