.

THE BETROTHAL.
It was not till she was alone that the girl realized the situation.
She put her hand over her eyes--the hand that still tingled with the light pressure of his touch.
What had happened?
Had Willy asked her to become his wife?
And had she seemed to say No?
The sound of his voice was still lingering on her ears; it was a low broken murmur, such as might have fallen to a sob.
Had she, then, refused?
That could not be.

She was but a poor homeless girl, with nothing to recommend her to such a man as he was.

Yet she knew--she had heard--that he loved her, and would one day ask her to be his wife.

She had thought that day was far distant.