They were now almost in the centre of that part of the church-yard which lies above the church, and behind the monument to the American prisoners who died during the British occupancy of New York. The afternoon service was about to begin, and the solemn tones of the organ were audible where they stood. It seemed to Filson Shelby that the time had come for him to speak. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and began. "Miss Edna," he said, hesitatingly, "why do you want to be a school-teacher?" "To earn my living, to be sure!" she answered, calmly enough, although the color was rising again on her cheeks. "But you don't need ever so many scholars to earn your living, do you?" he asked, gaining courage slowly. "What do you mean?" she returned, forcing herself to look him in the face. "I mean," he responded, "that I don't see why you couldn't earn your living just as well by having only one scholar--" "Only one scholar?" she echoed. "Yes--only one scholar," he declared; "but you could take him for life. And you could teach him everything that was good and true and beautiful--and he would work hard for you, and try and make you happy." The color ebbed from her cheeks, but she said nothing. The low notes of the organ were dying away, and on the elevated railroad just behind the young couple a train came hissing along wreathed in swirling steam. "I'm not worthy of you, Edna; I know that only too well; but you can make me ever so much better if you'll only try," he urged. "I love you with my whole heart--that's what I've been trying to say. Will you marry me?" She raised her eyes to his and simply answered, "Yes." An hour later, as they were going through the dropping twilight down Wall Street to the old office building, on the top floor of which she lived with her parents, they were still talking of each other, of their united future, and of their separate past. When they came to the door and stood at the foot of the five flights of stairs that led up to the janitor's apartment, they had still many things to say to each other. What seemed to Filson Shelby most astonishing was that he should now be engaged to be married, when that very morning he was not even aware of his love for her. And being a very young fellow, and, moreover, being very much in love, he could not keep this astonishing thing to himself, but must needs tell her. "Do you know, Edna," he began, "that I must have been in love with you a long while without knowing it? Isn't that most extraordinary? And it was only this morning that I found it out!" Standing on the stairs above him, and just out of his reach, she broke into a merry little laugh, and the tendrils of red hair quivered around her broad brow. "What are you laughing at?" he asked. "Oh, nothing," she answered, and then she laughed again. "At least, not much. It is only because men are so much slower to see things than women are." "What do you mean?" he asked again.