“Do you know that I seem to have known you a long while, although we never spoke to each other till yesterday? Yet it is, after all, only two weeks since I first saw you. Since that day you have never been out of my thoughts.” His beautiful dark eyes seemed to hold her violet ones in a fascinated gaze. She could not remove them, though she felt the rosy blushes bathing cheek and brow. Their glances mingled caressingly, and, taking her unresisting hand in his, he continued, in low, thrilling accents: “Forgive me if I seem rash and forward, taking advantage of your gentleness; but, Daisie Bell, I love you with the passion of my life, though it may be madness to avow it, though it may meet your scorn. But the softness of your gaze inspires me with some little hope that you are not indifferent to my love, that I may win you--by long devotion--to be my bride.” How pale her cheek grew--pale as yesterday, when she lay unconscious on his breast after that perilous accident! What a startled look came into her violet eyes! CHAPTER IV. FALSE. Dallas Bain was startled by the young girl’s emotion, and his own cheek paled with sorrow as he cried hoarsely: “You are angry with me for my presumption? I was too hasty, but my love must be my excuse. Will you forgive me?” Daisie put out the little hand he had dropped in his alarm, and as he clasped it again he felt the soft pressure of fingers twining about his own as she whispered, in a choked voice: “You startled me, but--but--I am not angry. For how could I be, when--when----” She stopped, tears rushing to her eyes. What could she mean? he thought. Did she--did she care also, as he had dared to hope? Trembling with hope, the color rushing to his brow, he bent over the agitated girl, and read hope in the trembling smile of the coral lips. “Oh, Daisie, will you love me?” he cried impetuously, and she answered, with a broken sob: “Oh, how could I help it, dear?” And then he dared to kiss her, and for the space of five minutes heaven seemed to come down to earth in that rare bliss of mutual love. Absorbed in sweet assurances of tenderness, they did not hear the crunching of carriage wheels that stopped at the gate, nor the rustle of a silken robe as a fine little lady came up the steps. But Aunt Alice saw the sight from an upper window, and hurried down to admit the pretty, airy little visitor. “Mrs. Bell, I presume?” she twittered. “Well, I am Mrs. Fleming, cousin of Royall Sherwood, you know. I came to call on Miss Daisie, having heard she had been injured in an accident.” And scarcely had Dallas pushed back his chair from its close proximity to the sofa when she was in the room, aflutter with laces and ribbons and flaxen crinkles. “Why, Mr. Bain, this is a surprise! I--I did not know you were acquainted with Miss Bell,” she broke out, in dismay and alarm. Dallas was a trifle disconcerted, but he rallied himself and answered lightly: