“It is impossible to help saying what one feels to such an artless little creature as you are. It does me good to admire anything so fresh and sweet, and won’t harm you.” “It might if—” “If what, my daisy?” “I believed it,” and a laugh seemed to finish the broken sentence better than the words. “You may, Ruth, for I do sincerely admire the most genuine girl I have seen for a long time. And walking here with you in your bridal white I was just asking myself if I should not be a happier man with a home of my own and a little wife hanging on my arm than drifting about the world as I do now with only myself to care for.” “I know you would!” and Ruth spoke so earnestly that Randal was both touched and startled, fearing he had ventured too far in a mood of unwonted sentiment, born of the romance of the hour and the sweet frankness of his companion. “Then you don’t think it would be rash for some sweet woman to take me in hand and make me happy, since fame is a failure?” “Oh, no; it would be easy work if she loved you. I know some one—if I only dared to tell her name.” “Upon my soul, this is cool,” and Randal looked down, wondering if the audacious lady on his arm could be shy Ruth. If he had seen the malicious merriment in her eyes he would have been more humiliated still, but they were modestly averted, and the face under the little hat was full of a soft agitation rather dangerous even to a man of the world. “She is a captivating little creature, but it is too soon for anything but a mild flirtation. I must delay further innocent revelations or I shall do something rash.” While making this excellent resolution Randal had been pressing the hand upon his arm and gently pacing down the dimly lighted hall with the sound of music in his ears, Ruth’s sweetest roses in his button-hole, and a loving little girl beside him, as he thought. “You shall tell me by and by when we are in town. I am sure you will come, and meanwhile don’t forget me.” “I am going in the spring, but I shall not be with Sophie,” answered Ruth, in a whisper. “With whom then? I shall long to see you.” “With my husband. I am to be married in May.” “The deuce you are!” escaped Randal, as he stopped short to stare at his companion, sure she was not in earnest. But she was, for as he looked the sound of steps coming up the back stairs made her whole face flush and brighten with the unmistakable glow of happy love, and she completed Randal’s astonishment by running into the arms of the young minister, saying with an irrepressible laugh, “Oh! John, why didn’t you come before?”