“That's merely saying you don't love any one.” He dropped back rather wearily on his pillow. “Does Tom know about this?” he added. “Yes.” “Was he able to show a proper amount of surprise?” “He appeared really shocked, Charley.” “Well, then, it wasn't Tom. He never shows much emotion, but what he does show he usually feels, I've noticed. I had rather hoped it was Tom, I'd be glad to think that he was responsible; for if it wasn't Tom, who was it?--who is it to whom it makes any difference how often I see you?” “I don't know, Charley;” but her voice was uncertain. “Look here, Betty; for the hundredth time, won't you marry me? I've loved you ever since I was old enough to know what love meant. You've been awfully sweet and patient with me, and I've tried to respect your wishes and not speak of this except when it seemed necessary--” he paused, and they both laughed a little, but he looked weak and helpless with his bloodless face showing between the gaps in the bandages that swathed him. Perhaps it was this sense of his helplessness that roused a feeling in Betty that was new to her. “You see, Charley, I fear--I am sure I don't love you the way I should--to marry you--” Charley, greatly excited, groaned and sat up, and groaned again. “Oh, please, Charley-lie still!” she entreated. “That's all right--and you needn't pull your hand away--you like me better than any one else, you've told me so; well, don't you see that's the beginning of really loving me?” “But you wouldn't want to marry me at once?” “Yes I would--right away--as soon as I am able to stir around!” said Charley promptly. “Don't you see the immediate necessity there is of my being in a position to care for you, Betty? I wasn't served this trick for nothing.” “You must try not to worry, Charley.” “But I shall--I expect it's going to retard my recovery,” said the young man gloomily. “I couldn't be worse off! Here I am flat on my back; I can't come to you or keep watch over you. Let me have some hope, dear--let me believe that you will marry me!” She looked at him pityingly, and with a certain latent tenderness in her mood. “Do you really care so much for me, Charley?” “I love you, Betty!--I want you to say you will marry me as soon as I can stand by your side--you're not going?--I won't speak of this again if it annoys you, dear!” for she had risen. “I must, Charley--” “Oh, don't--well, then, if you will go, I want Carrington to ride back with you.” “But I brought George with me--” “Yes, I know, but I want you to take Carrington--the Lord knows what we are coming to here in West Tennessee; I must have word that you reach home safe.” “Very well, then, I'll ask Mr. Carrington. Good-by, Charley, dear!” Norton seemed to summon all his fortitude.