"Should you know it, if _I_ were unhappy, Pixie? I should know it about you. I came this afternoon partly, mostly, because I knew how you'd be feeling, and I thought, I hoped, that I might help. Does it help you, Pixie, to have me sitting beside you, instead of being alone? Ought I to have come, or stayed away?" "I'm glad you came; I love to have you. I've been sad before this, but I've never been sad by myself! Esmeralda isn't my sister at this moment, she's just Jack's mother, and there's only one person who can help her, and that is Jack's father. Later on 'twill change!" A flash of joy lit up the white face. "Do you know what I'm waiting for? If Jack lives, as soon as he's conscious and out of pain he'll send for me! He'll want me to tell him stories, and the stronger he grows the more stories he'll want! He'll need me then--they'll all need me!" "Of course they'll need you. Other people need you, Pixie, besides your relations. Why do you always go back to them? I was speaking of myself. _I_ need you! I've felt all at sea without you these last days. I never met a girl like you before. Most girls are all one way or another--so serious that they're dull, or so empty-headed that it's a waste of time to talk to them. You--you are such a festive little thing, Pixie; a fellow could never be dull in your company, and yet you're so good! You have such sweet thoughts; you are so unselfish, so kind." "_Go_ on!" cried Pixie urgently. "_Go_ on!" Her cheeks had flushed, her eyes sparkled with animation. "It's the most reviving thing in the world to hear oneself praised, I could listen to it for hours. In what particular way, now, would you say that I was `_sweet_?'" She peered at him, complacent, curious, blightingly unconscious of his emotions, and the young man felt a stirring of hot impatience. Insinuation and innuendo were of no use where Pixie O'Shaughnessy was concerned; an ordinary girl might scent a proposal afar off and amuse herself by an affectation of innocence, but nothing short of a plain declaration of love would convince Pixie of his sincerity. "Pixie," he said suddenly, "look at me!" He took her hands in his, and drew her round so as to face him as they sat. "Look at me, Pixie," he repeated. "Look in my eyes. Tell me, what do you see?" Pixie looked, her own eyes wide and amazed. Her fingers stirred within his hands with a single nervous twitch, and then lay still, while into her eyes crept an expression of wonder and awe. "I don't know.--I don't know. ... What do I see?" "Love, Pixie! My love. My love for you. ... I've fallen in love with you, darling; didn't you know? I knew it that last evening when we were together upstairs. I've known it better and better each day since; and to-day I couldn't stay away, I couldn't wait any longer. ... Pixie, do you love me too?"