Tell me,--tell me, Azalea, that you can learn to love me." "Oh, don't--I can't--" "Not just at once, dear,--I can't hope for that.

But, can't you learn,--can't you try to learn--If I help you?
Brownie,--that's all my own name for you,--isn't it, you nutbrown maid! Brownie, darling,--you _must_ love me.

I can't bear it if you don't!" Azalea looked mystified,--then amazed,--and then her face lighted up with a sudden radiant happiness,--she seemed glorified, exalted.
Van Reypen caught her in his arms.
"You do love me,--you witch! you beauty! Azalea, you look transfigured! You _do_ love me,--tell me so!" Then her face changed.

She repulsed him,--she sought to leave his encircling clasp.
"Don't!" she cried, "don't! It is horrible!" She burst into uncontrollable tears, and her whole frame shook with her turbulent sorrow.
"Have I been too abrupt ?" asked Van Reypen, filled with dismay.

"Give me a little hope, dear, just say you'll let me tell you this some other time, and I'll not trouble you now." "Oh, it isn't _that_," Azalea sobbed, "it's--oh, _no_! I _can't_ tell you,--it's too _dreadful_! Let me go!" and she ran from him and hurried back to the house and up to her own room..