“And now?” he was strongly moved; not knowing whose hand had lifted the veil of her misunderstanding and far from divining the truth. “And now?” the tears gathered in her eyes and fell unheeded; “I cannot but think of her love--her unhappiness!” “And you still blame me?” Fox stood motionless, his face resuming its stern reserve. Rose shook her head. “I--I cannot!” she murmured, remembering that confession, and the thought of it sealing her lips. He started, the color rushing to his temples, the kindling passion of his glance transforming him. “Rose!” She looked up through her tears, and as suddenly hid her face in her hands. “I am afraid!” she murmured brokenly, “out of--of all this sorrow can there be happiness?” Fox sat down beside her and gently took her hand. “You mean you cannot trust me?” he asked soberly. For a moment she did not answer. He looked down at her drooping profile, the lovely arch of her brow, the soft cheek and chin; her eyes no longer met his. “Or is it that you do not love me?” he said quietly. She raised her head at that, and the dawning sweetness of her glance illumined his soul. “It is because I love you--that I can no longer judge!” she faltered, with trembling lips. He met her look without a word; language, for the moment, had not significance for them. Silence, filled with the sweet murmur of summer life, the fragrance of flowers, the audible rustling of the magnolia leaves, seemed to enfold them in a new and beautiful world. THE END. 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.