“Yes, almost close enough to touch you: I was tempted, indeed, to rush to you and clasp you to my heart, but I had not forgotten the night I kissed you when you flung my roses in my face and scratched me with the sharp thorns; I did not care to risk such vixenish resentment again, although that kiss, believe me, was worth all I suffered for it.” She listened, eagerly, to every word, flushing and paling, delicately as a rose, her large, dilated brown eyes drinking in every tender word. Charley Bonair thought, in spite of her thinness, that she was as lovely as a dream. Suffering had only refined her beauty. She had scarcely a word to say; she only listened, drinking in his voice like heavenly music, and he, gazing at her and stroking her little hand, went on with his explanations, saying: “I heard all you and the old woman were saying, and was vastly amazed at your credulity in believing her silly yarns. Well, soon after you left, I started down to see Zilla, and heard your cries of terror, so by hurrying my pace I was able to get there in time to save you from being quite killed by the angry brute. I suppose Mrs. Cline has told you everything that happened afterward, as far as she knew.” She murmured yes, and he added joyously: “What she did not know, was that as soon as I found out you would live, I resolved to break my engagement with Rosalind, if you would forgive the past and have me. I have carried out my intentions, and am free to offer you my heart and my name. Can you love me, little girl, in spite of my glaring faults, and take me in hand to reform me?” His tender eyes shone love into hers, and he looked as though he meditated kissing her at any moment. Berry felt dizzy all at once, with a strange feeling, as if she were floating in air on rosy clouds of bliss. “Oh, Berry, why don’t you speak? Are you angry with me still? Will you not forgive and love me?” cried her ardent lover, with dawning anxiety, for he felt her little hand growing chill and fluttering like a bird in his clasp. She half sobbed: “Oh, oh, I am almost afraid!” “Afraid, my darling--of what, pray?” “To--marry--you, Mr. Bonair! Because you are all so rich and grand--your people, you know, and they might not care for you to marry simple little me, instead of the proud heiress, Rosalind!” she panted questioningly, while blushes came and went deliciously on her thin cheeks. Charley Bonair looked sober for a moment, then laughed again.