He did not pause to ask himself what it meant. He did not understand women’s nerves. He only comprehended that she had given way, that everything was changed, that she was unstrung and weeping. In a moment he had her in his arms, exclaiming, passionately: “Lisbeth! Lisbeth!” And then the little straw hat, with its blue ribbon, slipping away from the small, pale face, that lay upon his breast, he bent and covered it, this small, pale, tear-wet face, with reckless kisses. For the moment he did not care what came next, nor what doom he brought upon himself, he was so mad with long pent-up love and misery. He found the little hand under the shawl, too, and fell to kissing that, also, and would not let it go. “Don’t be cruel to me, Lisbeth!” he pleaded, when she tried to draw it away; and she was forced to let it remain. “Don’t be cruel to me,” he said, and still held this hand, when she released herself at last, and stood up, miserable and shame-faced, yet far less miserable than she had been. “It--it is you who are cruel!” she faltered. “What am I to say to you! You have left me nothing to say.” She hung back, half afraid of his vehemence. He had begun with bitter ravings, and in five minutes had ended by crushing her in his arms. It was her punishment that she should be so humbled and brought down. “Say nothing,” he cried. “Let me say all. I love you. It is Fate.” She could not help seeing the fantastic side of this, and she smiled, a little, daring smile, though she hung her head. “Are you--proposing to me?” she ventured, hoping to retrieve herself. He could not stand that, but she would not let him burst out again, and leave her no chance to assert her privilege to struggle at retaining the upper hand. “You told me that you came in spite of yourself, because you could not stay away. Was it true?” she asked. “Yes.” She could not help feeling a glow of triumph, and it shone in her eyes. “I am glad of that,” she said. “I am glad. It saves me so much.” “And I may stay?” he exclaimed, in his old, impetuous fashion. “Lisbeth----” Though he held her hand fast, she managed to stoop down, under pretense of rescuing the blue-ribboned hat from the sand. “You need not go,” she answered. And that was the end of it. The three Misses Tregarthyn looked at each in blank dismay, when these two walked into the parlor, an hour after. But Hector grasped his nettle with a matter-of-fact boldness, for which Lisbeth intensely admired him in secret. “I went out on the beach to find Miss Crespigny, and I found her,” he announced. “Here she is, Miss Clarissa, Miss Millicent, Miss Hetty! She has promised to marry me. Oblige us with your blessing.” The trio fell upon their beloved Lisbeth, and embraced, as they had done on the previous occasion; but this time she bore it better.