“You’ve always been so very kind to me,” lisped Bertha, and there was gratitude in her voice. “Heaven knows I have tried to be, and that I have guarded you with jealous care ever since you were a little girl and came under my protection.” He had taken her hands, but they were unresponsive. “No man,” continued Grim, “could love you more than I have for many years. Of course you knew what my feelings were—you must have known, for have I ever failed to satisfy your every wish and want?” [207] “Never,” murmured Bertha, as she leaned her head against his breast “Yes, I have protected you,” he went on, as he laid one arm about her slender form, “I have kept you from the young scape-grace, your cousin, Arthur Boast. I feared he was trying to make love to you, and for that reason forbade him the house.” 0215 “Oh, how could you think such a thing?” said she, in her soft, cooing way, yet with a half-indignant intonation in her voice. [208] “Oh, I am perfectly content now,” replied Grim, and his old, pompous air and manner of speech began to assert themselves. “Of course I could not show you my heart in all its tenderness—I was a husband and had to control myself—but now, it seems as if all obstacles have been removed. Do you love me, Bertha? I have thought many times that I could read my answer in your eyes, but I long to hear you say so.” “Yes,” whispered Bertha, “I love you so much.” In his daily walks, Rufus Grim was an over-bearing, selfish man, but now he was softened, and his emotion was very great. He looked tenderly and longingly on the drooping head beside him, and was for a time completely absorbed in the intensity of his love for the artful girl at his side. Yes, she was fooling him. She was the affianced wife of J. Arthur Boast, and yet she must play her part. “And may I one day call you wife?” said Rufus Grim, pressing her closely to him and kissing her reverently on the forehead. “Say in a year from now,” he pleaded. “Yes,” she lisped, gently pressing his hand, “it shall be as you say.” As a matter of truth, she was mentally speculating how she could get out of this horrible scrape. He had said in a year—that was a long time. She would have ample opportunity to free herself in some way. Arthur must help her. CHAPTER XXIV.—THE GOLDEN MAUSOLEUM. 9217 GRIM [209] was a happy man. He would conceal his joy for one short year, and then—and then—. He had at last reached the top-most craig of all his worldly hopes. Wealth was his, and now he had secured the promise of Bertha Allen to be his wife. He called at his lawyer’s office the next day and told him he wished to add a codicil to his will. He spoke in his usual loud and confident way, and seemed to constantly remember that he was not only the richest man in Gold Bluff, but, by big odds, the most fortunate.