She hesitated.

Why was it no merry quip came to the lips usually so ready with repartee?
Alas, she must answer.
"I--I--oh, Mr.Seymour," she said softly and slowly, with a downcast face she fain would hide, he fain would see.

"I--yes," she murmured with great reluctance; "that is--I think so.

You see, when you defended father, in the fight with the brig, you know, and got that bullet in your shoulder you earned a title to my gratitude, my--" "I don't want a title to your gratitude," he interrupted.

"I want your love, I want you to love me for myself alone." "And do you think you are worthy that I should ?" she replied with a shadow of her former archness.
He gravely bent his head and kissed her hand.