"Why not?" exclaimed the youth, passionately, "I am penniless? Nay, it is more than probable that I may never be really strong again." "That is God's work, but no fault of yours!" "But how can I support a wife? I who cannot earn bread for myself?" "You wish to leave Mary then?" "_Wish_ to leave her! Do the angels wish to flee from paradise, when all its flowers are in blossom? No, bear with me, good aunt. It may be folly, but, I have some power. Let me try it. Every year sends a troop of persons to our country who turn their talent into gold. Why should not I?" "And what would you do then?" inquired the old lady. "What should I do!" exclaimed the youth, with enthusiasm. "Why, return to you with the money I had earned, and, instead of a burden, become a protector to your old age." "And Mary." "Then I could, without cowering with shame at my own helplessness, ask her to love me even as I love her." "But how many years must go by before you can return to us? The best part of her life and yours will have passed before then." "I know it. I feel all the madness of my hopes. They are wild, insane perhaps, but I will not give them up; do not ask me, do not discourage me. Why must I, with my heart and brain alive like other men's, live and die alone?" Aunt Hannah looked towards Mary Fuller, who sat trembling in the darkness. The triumphant consciousness that she was beloved, overwhelmed the girl with a pleasure so exquisite that it almost amounted to pain. Still she felt like a criminal stealing the secret of her own happiness, but the shadows were too thick; aunt Hannah saw nothing of this. "And now," said the youth, more calmly, "you will let me depart, or I shall speak out the love which is becoming too powerful for concealment. I shall tell her that the beggar loves her and dreams of making her his wife." Mary arose, the joy at her heart swelled painfully, and her delicate frame trembled beneath it. She would gladly have crept from the room with her sweet burden of happiness, but this excitement had been continued too long; her limbs gave way and she sank to the floor. "Who is here? what is this?" cried the youth; "has another heard my mad confession?" "_I_ heard it all, forgive me, forgive me. I could not go out; at the first attempt my strength gave way"-- "You heard me?" questioned the youth, pale and trembling. "You heard all that I said. Girl, girl, you have stolen the secret from my heart to despise me for it." Mary Fuller rose to her feet, and drew towards him. The beauty of an angel glowed in her face; it was bright with holy courage. "Despise you for it! I, who love you so much!" "Love me! Stop, Mary, do not say this if it is not holy truth, such as one honest heart may render to another." "It is holy truth. Take my hands in yours. See how they quiver with the joy of your words." "But I am poor, Mary Fuller, I am stricken in all my strength." "And I, what am I?" "Oh, you are an angel. I know you are that!"