He paused for a moment or two; and then, there in the calm of that shadowy wood, with the sunbeams coming like golden arrows through the leafy boughs, and the distant twitter of some bird for interruption, he told her of his own life and troubles, watching her bright, animated face as she listened eagerly, sometimes laying her hand confidingly upon his arm, till his tale approached the chapters of his love; and now, impassioned in his earnestness, he half forgot the listener at his side, till, in the midst of his declaration of love and trust and fidelity to Valentina Rea, he became aware of a faint sigh, and he had just time to catch the poor girl as she was slipping from the tree trunk to the ground. "Poor child!" he said, raising her in his arms, gazing in the pale face, and kissing her forehead. "It was a cruel kindness, for Heaven knows I never thought of this." He sat holding her for a few moments, as animation came slowly back, till at last her eyes opened, looking wonderingly in his; and then, as recollection returned, she put up her two hands as if in prayer, and said, piteously-- "Take me home--please, take me home." "Netta, my child," cried Richard, sinking at her feet, "recollect your promise--that we were to be friends. I have hurt you--I have wounded you. I call God to witness that I never meant it!" A sad smile quivered for a moment on her poor white lips, as he kissed her hands again and again; and then, as the full reality of all she had heard came upon her, she uttered a low, heart-breaking wail, and sank upon the ground amidst the ferns and grass, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed aloud. "My God, what have I done?" exclaimed Richard, hoarsely. "Netta, my child, I tried to be kind to you, and it has all turned to gall and bitterness. For Heaven's sake, tell me you forgive me--that you do not think me base and cruel. Netta, pray--pray speak to me." She dropped her hands in her lap, and raised her blank white face to his. "You believe me?" he cried, hoarsely. "Yes, yes," she said, piteously. "It was my fault. I thought--I thought--" "Hush, my poor darling!" he whispered, "I know what you would say. I should have known better." "No," she said, sweetly, and her trembling voice was so piteous that the tears rose to the strong man's eyes. "It was I who should have known better, Richard--I, who have only a few short months to stay on earth." "Netta!" he cried, and his voice was wild and strange. "Yes, it is true," she said, simply--"it is quite true; but you came like sunshine to my poor dark life, and I could not help it--I thought you loved me." "And I do, my child, dearly, as I would a sister!" he exclaimed, passionately, as he raised her up, and kissed her forehead. "Netta, I would have given my right hand sooner than have caused you pain." "Don't blame yourself," she said, softly, extricating herself from his arms; "I should have known better. Take me home--take me home!"