"I have learned one thing," said Houston, "that it is not any particular place or surroundings that constitutes home for us, so much as the presence of those who are dear to us. Imagine how it would have seemed to me, three months ago, to have called this place 'home,' but it seems wonderfully home-like to me to-day." "As to what constitutes a home, I am scarcely qualified to judge," said Miss Gladden, "for I hardly know what a home is; but my idea is, that any spot where my best loved ones were, would be home to me." "And with such sentiments as those," Houston responded, "you would make any spot on earth home to those whom you loved." "I should hope to," she replied, and added archly, "and if they loved me, I think I would succeed." "I fear," said Houston, smiling, "that we are very old fashioned and far behind the spirit of modern times, which considers love of small account in the elements that constitute a home." "I consider it an indispensable element, nevertheless," she replied, earnestly, "for I have seen too much of so-called homes where it did not exist, and they were not even successful imitations of the genuine article; their hollowness and wretchedness were only too apparent." She paused a moment, then continued: "To me, the home seems like one of the old-time temples; a place to be kept sacred to peace and purity and love; from which the sin and strife of the outside world should be faithfully excluded; whose inmates, on entering, should leave behind all traces of the evil and discord of the outer world, as the Oriental leaves his dust-laden sandals at the door of his sanctuary." "I have never known any other than such a home as that," said Houston, slowly, "and it is the only true home." "Pardon me," said Miss Gladden, "but are your parents living? I have often wondered." "No," he replied, "my parents died when I was a mere child, but the faint recollection of my early home, and the memory of my uncle's home, which has been mine also, correspond very closely with the picture you have just drawn." "Then with you it is a reality," she answered, "but with me, only an ideal." "Miss Gladden," said Houston very earnestly, but with great tenderness, "will you not let me help you to make a reality of your ideal?" Then, as she did not immediately reply, he continued, "The love that we believe in as the foundation of a true home, is not lacking on my part. I love you, Leslie, so much that life with you anywhere would seem perfect and complete, while life without you, even in a palace, would not seem worth the living. Can you love me enough to share my life and home, whatever it may be, as my wife?" He had taken her hand, and she did not withdraw it, but looking in his face, she asked: "Would you make me your wife, knowing so little of me as you do?"