“Will you please tell your sister that I would like to see her for a few minutes?” he said. “I will wait in the drawing-room.” Without wasting words, Dorothy, a mischievous smile dimpling her cheeks, hurried upstairs. As she turned from delivering Thorne’s message to Vera she encountered Hugh Wyndham, who was waiting for her in his aunt’s boudoir. “Dorothy”--Wyndham stood tall and straight before her--“Jacob served seven years for Rachel--the desire of his heart; how long must I serve for mine?” Dorothy’s roguish smile, so long lost in the care and turmoil of her daily life, lit her charming face as she answered: “Just as long as it will require to get Vera’s permission. No, wait,” as Wyndham, hardly able to believe such swift capitulation, sprang toward the door. “_You_ may set the date, Hugh.” Down in the drawing-room the minutes passed on leaden feet for Thorne. Would Vera never come? He finally turned in despair and found her watching him from the doorway. He was by her side instantly, and held out a black-edged visiting-card. “You sent me this, Vera, as you said--‘In grateful remembrance’--for the little aid I was able to render your mother when she was stricken in the street with heart failure. Later, in Philadelphia I saw you, but was too shy to introduce myself, but I have never forgotten my first glimpse of you. I have always treasured the card and your picture, possessed by a strong conviction that we should some day meet again. “Two months ago I heard that Bruce Brainard had eloped with a Miss Deane of Washington, and I stupidly jumped to the conclusion that it was you. It never occurred to me that it might be your sister. The thought that you were innocently involved in Brainard’s murder was torture to me, and I could not rest until the real criminal was arrested and you were entirely exonerated. “You must know and realize how passionately I love you.” His voice was very tender, and her eyes fell before his ardent look. “I have little to offer, Vera. Is there any hope for me?” Vera’s lovely eyes were alight with happiness as she looked up at him. “There’s more than hope,” she whispered, and the words were lost against his shoulder; then she looked bravely upward and their lips met in the first kiss of love. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.