"How do you know what I am?" she inquired.
"Your face tells me," said the infatuated Richard. "I hope you will
forgive me for my rudeness last night. It was all done on the spur of
the moment."
"I am glad you are sorry," said the girl, softening.
"All the same, if I hadn't done it," pursued Mr. Catesby, "I shouldn't be
sitting here talking to you now."
Miss Truefitt raised her eyes to his, and then lowered them modestly to
the ground. "That is true," she said, quietly.
"And I would sooner be sitting here than any-where," pursued Catesby.
"That is," he added, rising, and taking a chair by her side, "except
here."
Miss Truefitt appeared to tremble, and made as though to rise. Then she
sat still and took a gentle peep at Mr. Catesby from the corner of her
eye.
"I hope that you are not sorry that I am here?" said that gentleman.
Miss Truefitt hesitated. "No," she said, at last."
"Are you--are you glad?" asked the modest Richard.
Miss Truefitt averted her eyes altogether. "Yes," she said, faintly.
A strange feeling of solemnity came over the triumphant Richard. He took
the hand nearest to him and pressed it gently.
"I--I can hardly believe in my good luck," he murmured.
"Good luck?" said Prudence, innocently.
"Isn't it good luck to hear you say that you are glad I'm here?" said
Catesby.
"You're the best judge of that," said the girl, withdrawing her hand.
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