He took both her hands in his, and pressed them to his beating bosom, while his beautiful eyes poured love into hers point-blank.

"May I tell him you love me?
Oh, I know you cannot love me as I love you; but I may say you love me a little, may I not ?--that will go farther with him than anything else.

May I, Rosa, may I ?--a little ?" His passion mastered her.

She dropped her head sweetly on his shoulder, and murmured, "You know you may, my own.

Who would not love you ?" He parted lingeringly from her, then marched away, bold with love and hope, to demand her hand in marriage.
Rosa leaned back in her chair, and quivered a little with new emotions.
Christopher was right; she was not capable of loving like him; but still the actual contact of so strong a passion made her woman's nature vibrate.