“It is not true, my little darling. I never really fell in love until your sweet face dawned on my vision. Then I began to realize that my engagement to Juliette was a terrible mistake, and that I would be wrong to continue it. But I kept waiting from day to day, hoping she would see how things were and throw me over herself, as she did at last, but only after I had bungled matters by telling you too soon of my love.” Where was Pansy’s bitter resentment now? It was melting like snow in the sunshine under his eager words. Everything looked so different now in the light of his manly, straightforward explanations. Her sad heart bounded with renewed hope, and a leaden weight seemed to be lifted from her spirits. “Now, Pansy, you see that I was not to blame,” said her lover eagerly. “You will forgive me, will you not, and promise what I was going to ask you that day--that you will be my own little wife?” She blushed brightly, and could not utter a word. He took her little hand tenderly in his, and whispered: “‘Silence gives consent.’” Presently she lifted her little head from his breast, where he had drawn it in reckless defiance of the whole world, if it had been looking on. But, fortunately, no one saw or heeded the pair of happy lovers. “But how can I be your wife?” she whispered, in a troubled tone. “Mrs. Ives told Aunt Robbins that your family was very rich and grand--that they would never permit you to marry me.” “Never mind, I will bring them around,” he replied, with pretended carelessness. He would not tell her that he had spoken to his parents about her, and that both had sternly forbidden him to think of marrying one so far beneath him in position, birth, and fortune. “Remember that you are descended from one of the first families of Virginia,” exclaimed his haughty mother. “I shall only regret that fact if it is to separate me from the girl I love,” he replied angrily, and then his father threatened him with disinheritance if he did not give up Pansy Laurens. He told Pansy nothing of all this, although it lay deep in his own heart, like a leaden weight, for he knew that he could not support a wife if his father threw him over. He had no fortune of his own, and, although he had been educated for the law, he had only just hung out his “shingle,” as he humorously called it. It was folly, madness, to woo Pansy Laurens in the face of such prospects, and yet he went straight on, hoping against hope that something would turn up in his favor. “I will bring them around in time,” he repeated, and she, looking up at her splendid lover in worshipful adoration, believed him, and bright visions of happiness flitted before her mind’s eye. She could not help triumphing in her thoughts over her insolent rival, Juliette Ives.