“My own darling!” he whispered, passionately, his face flushing with happiness; “you _do_ love me; I read it in your eyes, and the world was never so bright to me as at this moment; but tell me, shall I have what I want—will you give me your promise that, next year, when you have completed your education, instead of going back to England as a teacher, you will go with me as my wife?” She grew suddenly grave, and lifting an earnest look to his face, said: “I have told you that I am only a poor girl, with my own fortune to carve out. You have no idea _how_ poor I am, how dependent, how friendless. You, perhaps, have proud relatives; you may occupy a place far above me socially, and your friends might object to your claiming one in my position as your wife.” “I care nothing for your poverty or dependence, dear,” he returned, tenderly; “it cannot alter the fact that you are the only woman whom I shall ever love well enough to make my wife. But,” he added, with a thoughtful look, “I forget that I am almost a stranger to you—that you know nothing of me, that I have told you nothing——” “I have not given it a thought,” Star interrupted, earnestly. “I can _trust_ you; I _know_ you are true.” His face grew radiant. “You will never regret your trust, my darling,” he said. “I—am an artist, Star, but I believe I can take care of you, and promise you that you shall never know the meaning of the words poor and dependent again. Of course I have friends, and—but I will tell you all about them some other time. I want my promise now—you will give yourself to me, dear?” “Yes,” she breathed, her scarlet lips parting slightly with a tremulous smile, “by and by, when I am better fitted to be your—wife.” He longed to take her in his arms and draw her to his heart, and kiss the lips that had promised him the greatest joy he had ever known; but there were other carriages near, and curious eyes all about them; so he could only clasp that small hand more fondly, and murmur low and tender words to tell of the deep, true love of which his heart was full. “You shall indeed go back to England now, my darling,” he said, “but never to _teach_. You shall remain here until you have completed your course of study if you wish; then I shall come, before this time next year, and take you to my—our home. I shall return with a happy heart now, for I shall have an object to work for and something to look forward to. Ah, my dear, my dear, do _you_ realize what is in store for us?—a long life of joy and love together, with brightest hopes and congenial tastes. Star, my beloved—my _star_, indeed!” Who can wonder that she gave herself up to the bliss of loving and being loved, when wooed in this tender manner? Who could chide this heart-hungry maiden, who had been starving for affection and sympathy, for feeling that she had never known happiness before?