So saying, she gathered up her rejected dainties and swept from the room, leaving him to repent of his refusal at leisure, for no child could be fonder of sweets than he. All that day and the succeeding night Espy was present in Floy’s dreams whether sleeping or waking. Nor were they happy dreams, for they seemed to take him farther and farther from her. Yet she strove to be cheerful in the presence of others, and only Hetty suspected how hollow was the pretence. Monday passed by, bringing no unusual event. On Tuesday, at a late hour in the morning, she was again directed to go to the residence of the Leas; this time to fit a dress for Carrie’s mother. “Mrs. Lea is not quite ready for you yet, miss,” said the servant who answered her ring. “She says you’ll be so good as to wait till she sends for you. Just walk in here, please,” he added on his own responsibility, perceiving that he was addressing a lady, and throwing open the door of the library as he spoke. Floy stepped in, the door closing behind her, and instantly became aware that the room had an occupant, and only one--a young and handsome man, seated comfortably in an easy chair by the fire, and busied with the morning paper. He looked up; the paper was suddenly flung aside, and in an instant he had caught both her hands in his, his face all aglow with delighted surprise. “Floy, Floy! have I found you at last? Oh, darling, can you, will you forgive those cruel words of mine? Ah, if you knew how bitterly they have been repented!” It was her own Espy again. Tears of joy rained down her cheeks; she could not speak for emotion; but she did not repulse him as he took her in his arms and folded her to his heart with many a tender caress, whispering the while, “Floy, Floy! my own darling, my own little wife!” “No, no, not that!” she sobbed. “Oh, Espy, Espy, we must part!” “For a little while--only for a little while--dearest.” “Your parents--have they relented?” she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes and gazing steadily into his. His cheek flushed. “I shall be of age in a few weeks, and be my own master,” he said, drawing himself up proudly. “But not mine,” she said very low--so low that he scarcely caught the words--and gently releasing herself from his embrace. He flushed more hotly than before. “Oh, Floy, have I ever seemed to think it? Nay, have I not rather been your devoted slave?” “You were always good to me, Espy; always watching over and caring for me, and ready and anxious to give me the best of everything. Oh, I shall never, never forget your goodness! no, not even if--” “If what, Floy?” “Even though another has--has won you--” “No, no, never!” he cried, taking her hands again. “I never have, never can love any one but you. Why should you think it?” and he gazed searchingly into her eyes. Then she told him something of what she had involuntarily heard a few days previous while waiting in Carrie Lea’s bedroom.