March 5. Cyrus came to me in my office to-day--as I had expected. But instead of looking woebegone and abject, he was radiant. He shut the door behind him. "_You_--guilty of cowardice," he began. "It isn't strange that I never suspected it." "What do you mean?" I asked, not putting down my pen. He came over and took it out of my fingers, then he took my fingers and kissed them, one by one. I was so astounded--and something else--that I made not the slightest resistance. "It's useless for you to cry out," he said, "for I've got the outer door well guarded." [Illustration] I started up aflame with indignation. "Who--whom--" I began. "Ma," he replied. "Oh!" I exclaimed, looking round with a wild idea of making a dart for liberty. "Ma," he repeated, "and it's not of the slightest use for you to try to side-step. You're cornered." He had both my hands now and was looking at me at arm's length. "So you are afraid to marry me for fear people--your friends--will say that--I walked right into the trap?" I hung my head and couldn't keep from trembling, I was so ashamed. "And if it wasn't for that you'd accept my 'proposition'--now--wouldn't you?" "I would not," I replied, wrenching myself away with an effort that put my hair topsy-turvy--it always does try to come down if I make a sudden movement, and I washed it only yesterday. "What gorgeous hair you have!" he said. "Sometimes I've caught a glimpse of it just as I was entering a room--and I've had to retreat and compose myself to make a fresh try." "You've been talking to your mother!" I exclaimed--I'd been casting about for an explanation of all this sudden shrewdness of his in ways feminine. "I have," said he. "It's as important to her as to me that you don't escape." "And she told you that I was in love with _you_!" I tried to put a little--not too much--scorn into the "you." "She did," he answered. "Do you deny that it's true?" "I have told you I would never accept your 'proposition,'" was my answer. "So you did," said he. "Then you mean that you're going to sacrifice my mother's happiness and mine, simply because you're afraid of being accused of mercenary motives?" "I shall never accept your 'proposition,'" I repeated, with a faint smile that was a plain hint. He came very close to me and looked down into my face. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded. And then he must have remembered what his proposition was--a strictly business arrangement on both sides. For, with a sort of gasp of relief, he took me in his arms. I do love the combination of strength and tenderness in a man. He had looked and talked and been so strong up to that instant. Then he was _so_ tender--I could hardly keep back the tears. "Wouldn't you like me to tell mother?" he asked. "She's just in the next room--and--" I nodded and said, "I never should have caught you if it hadn't been for her."