“I know not what to say,” answered Gannon, looking at her with an expression of surprise and anxiety. “To me the details of social life are unknown, and I am dull at learning. I like my master. The duty at the camp is more suitable for me than composing a lady’s letters.” [Illustration] “My offer is always open,” said Livilla, still gazing intently at the handsome lad with her wonderful eyes. She noticed that while he looked at her his face became flushed. She tossed her head coquettishly, and smiling and extending her hand, said: “Do not be shy. Come nearer. Give me your hand.” Gannon awkwardly approached. He placed his hand in hers, and feeling a slight pressure, fell on one knee and kissed her fingers. A fascination seemed to overcome him, and he slightly trembled. He raised his eyes, fearing a reproof; but the evil look which he met in her eyes frightened him. Her expression was one of triumph. Several times before she had tried to break through Gannon’s reserve. Now she thought her ends were accomplished. She exultantly raised him, and placing her face near his, murmured some inarticulate words that Gannon did not understand. He felt her breath on his cheek, and his first impulse was to kiss the lips so near his own. He hesitated, and hesitation brought with it fear. He drew back quickly and said, in a voice choked with emotion, “The answer, I pray thee.” This simple and innocent request was made in an excited manner. Gannon’s face wore a frightened look. Misunderstanding his true feelings, and thinking that he was diffident on account of their difference in rank, Livilla tried to calm him by reassuring words. Again she put out her hand and drew him near her; but her sensuous kiss was given on Gannon’s cheek, for he had turned his head. Angered at his indifference and at her defeat, she hastily took up a stylus and wrote a reply. “Begone!” she ordered, as she handed it to him. In embarrassed silence Gannon took the letter, and bowed himself from the room. He breathed more freely as he walked down the path that led to the street. “What did she mean?” he asked himself. “The daughter of Antonia in love with a schoolmaster’s son!” Gannon thought he must have been dreaming. “Surely she was angry when she handed me the letter,” he continued. “What wrong have I committed?” He thought of what had happened, but recalled nothing for which he could reproach himself. A feeling of shame possessed him, like that which he felt when he first heard a coarse story in the camp. His face grew stern. Looking at the letter which had been so roughly handed him, he was astonished to find it unsealed. Never before had Livilla failed to seal her letters. His first impulse was to return, but he could not go back just then. He decided that an unsealed letter must be one of little importance, and he proceeded towards the camp.