“But why should you say it is kind of me, little sweet herb?” “Oh, why, because you are so old and so grand; and I am so little every way!” she said, with another squeeze of his fingers. The earl winced; but whether at her words or her action, who could say? “Am I so old, so very old, then, Rosemary?” he gravely inquired. “Oh, no, no; I did not mean that! Of course, I didn’t mean that you are as old as Mr. Force, who is forty-five; but I meant—I meant—I meant—you are so very much grown up, to be so kind as to walk and talk with a girl like me as much as you do.” “Well, my dear, do you not like to have me walk and talk with you?” “Oh, yes! indeed, indeed I do! Oh, you know I do!” she answered, fervently. Again the earl was silent for a few moments, and then, drawing her small hand into the bend of his arm, he asked: “Rosemary, would you like that you and I should walk and talk together every day for the rest of our lives?” She turned and looked up into his face, as if she wished to read his meaning. He smiled into her upraised eyes. “Are you in earnest?” she inquired. “Perfectly, Rosemary. Do you think I would jest with you on such a subject?” “No! but I thought you knew me so well that you would know without asking that I would love dearly to walk and talk with you every day all our lives long, if we could! But how could we? Some of these days I shall go back to Maryland, and then we shall part and never meet again! Oh! I hate to think that we shall never meet again. You do seem so near to me! So very near to me! As if you were my own, my very own! Oh, sir! I beg your pardon! that was very presumptuous! I ought to have said—I ought to have said——” She stopped and reddened. “What, my child? You have said nothing wrong or untrue. What do you think you ought to have said?” the earl inquired, in a caressing tone. “I think I should have said, that I feel so near to you—that I feel as if I were your own, your very own! It was too, too arrogant in me to say that I feel as you belonged to me. I should have said, as if I belonged to you,” she explained. And then she laughed a little, as in ridicule of her own little ridiculous self. His hand tightened on hers as he replied: “Suppose we compromise the question and say that we belong to each other?” “Yes, that is it! And you are so good.” “And you really wish that we two should walk and talk together every day for the rest of our lives?” “Oh, yes; if it could be so!” “Rosemary,” he said, very gravely, as he still held and pressed her hand, “there is but one way in which it could be so.” He paused, and she looked up. How long he paused before he could venture to startle the child by his next words: “By marriage. Rosemary, dear, will you marry me?” She turned pale, but did not withdraw her astonished eyes from his face. “What do you say, little friend?” inquired the suitor. “Oh, oh, oh!” was what she said. “Does that mean yes or no, Rosemary?” She did not answer.