Most men whisper such things with a light laugh, or a twinkle of the eye, and I know their words to be empty as bubbles of air.

But you,--why, you almost make me feel you are in earnest." "And I am," I interrupted, longing to seize her hand as I knew De Croix would have done, and pour forth the words that burnt upon my lips.

"I have not been privileged to see much of the great outside world, Mademoiselle,--the world of courts and cities,--nor do I know how lovely its women may be; but no ideal formed in dreams satisfies me as you do.

I know naught of idle compliments, nor the graces of a courtier; but my words are from the heart." "I do truly believe and trust you, John Wayland," and she gave me her hand.

"But let us talk of this no longer.