“Not to-day, miss--not till I see that my gabbling has no ill effect on you,” Mrs. Cline replied uneasily. But just then there was a light tap on the door that opened into the hall, and when she went to it, there was Bonair, asking anxiously: “How is our little patient to-day, Mrs. Cline?” How the musical voice thrilled Berry’s heart, stirring it to subtle rapture! Alas, she did not hate him, after all; she was turning faint and dizzy just with the happiness of hearing him speak again! His faintest whisper made her heart rejoice! The voice ceased, and she heard Mrs. Cline saying: “She is getting better fast, sir, but I fear I have talked to her too much to-day, telling her about the night you rescued her, and just now she had a hard fit of crying from excitement.” “Oh, hush!” cried out Berry imploringly, but the sound of her voice went to his heart, made him reckless; he pushed past Mrs. Cline into the room, crying: “Oh, let me have just one peep at her, please!” Mrs. Cline, dazed and undecided, shut the door and stood with her back against it, staring as Charley Bonair dropped down on his knees, fixing adoring eyes on the sick girl’s pallid, frightened face. “Don’t be angry, little love! My own sweetheart, found once more, and never to be lost again! For I am free now, darling, and I will marry you to-morrow if you will have me for your husband!” CHAPTER XXII. THEIR PLIGHTED VOWS. It was enough to blow out the faint spark of Berry’s life, the sudden shock of seeing her lover, and hearing those startling words from his lips, but, happily, “joy never kills.” Now at the sight of his handsome face that she had never expected to see again in life, above all at the sound of his musical voice, uttering words she had not dared to fancy on his lips, such a wave of rapturous emotion thrilled Berry from head to foot, that she could not utter a sound. Her only response to her lover’s ardent words was a sudden rain of blissful tears that relieved the tension of her surcharged heart. With his own soft handkerchief Charley Bonair wiped away those shining drops, murmuring fond words, quite heedless of the gaping Mrs. Cline, who looked and listened, thinking to herself: “Well, I never! Has the man gone clean daft, promising to marry this poor little actress, when the folks up at the mansion say that he’s engaged to that grand, rich New York heiress, Miss Montague!” As she had known him from his boyhood, and did not stand at all in awe of him, she cried, in righteous indignation: “For shame, Mr. Charley, trying to flirt with that poor little sick girl, that don’t know you as well as I do, or she would not listen to your foolishness! Get out of here, now, do, before you scare my patient into fits!”