"They could not take you if they did," he answered; and then he unfolded to her, gently and tenderly, his wish to make her his wife at once, and asked her if she would consent. "It is the most proper thing for us to marry at once," he said. "Unfortunately, we can not be married in Philadelphia without a license, which, as it is near midnight now, I could not procure until to-morrow. But we can take a train within the hour for Washington, and be married, without the necessity of a license, by the first minister we can wake up there. Do you think you can agree to this, darling?" She hesitated; she said, anxiously: "Had we not better go straight to Boston and ask papa's leave? Perhaps he would not like it if we were married without his consent." Why did he not tell her the truth--that there was no use in going to Boston; that her father was dead and she had no home there; that her step-mother and her selfish daughter had inherited the Carew millions? He could not bear to inflict this shock upon her so soon. She had suffered so much already, poor little darling! that he would save her this added blow for a little while. He could fancy how hard she would take it, to come back to the world, fatherless, penniless, homeless. Let him make her his wife first, and she would have love, wealth, and position almost equal to what she had lost. Then he would have the right to comfort her with his devotion. So he began to urge his suit with all a lover's devotion, picturing to her the possibility of her father's refusal. "You are so young, dear Kathleen, he might want us to wait years and years, and there are so many things that might come between our love," he urged, anxiously. She shuddered and thought of Alpine Belmont's cruelty. The remembrance decided her; she consented to his wish. They were driven to the station to take the train for Washington. "In about three hours we shall be there, and then you shall soon be my little wife," he whispered, joyfully. They learned that the train was more than an hour late. They went into the reception-room to wait. Then it suddenly occurred to him that the members of his company at the hotel would be so alarmed at his non-appearance that night that they would think he had been foully dealt with, and raise a great hue and cry. He hastened to explain these facts to his lovely, girlish _fiancée_. "Do you think you would mind staying alone here, long enough for me to go and excuse myself to them?" he inquired, tenderly. Her throat ached with the impulse to sob out to him that she was frightened--that she did not wish for him to leave her there alone. But she was ashamed of her weakness; she would not confess it to her bright, handsome lover. In a low, tremulous voice, and with a sad little smile on her quivering red lips, she bade him go.