"I am sorry," said Mrs. St. John, after a moment's pause, "that you have refused to consider his suit for at least two months. Eligible young men are not so plentiful nowadays that a young girl can be so independent."

"I need not ask you what your opinion of an eligible young man is," said the young girl, throwing back her head haughtily, "for I know you would answer—a large bank account. But in my opinion that does not constitute all, where the happiness of a life-time is at stake. I would rather marry a man whose reputation was spotless, if he did not have a second coat to his back. There is something more than money in this world to make our happiness. I am glad instead of sorry that I refused to give him an answer for two months. I shall demand to know who the young girl is who came to our door, and what she is to him."

"Then you will be doing a very unwise thing," declared her mother, emphatically. "Let well enough alone. I told the girl to call around to-morrow night, and when she comes I will have a talk with her."

"Will you permit me to be present at the interview, mamma?"

"By no means!" exclaimed Mrs. St. John, with asperity. "The story that no doubt will be unfolded to me is not for ears such as yours. I will tell as much to you as I deem necessary for you to know; let that suffice."

But the young beauty and heiress was not to be appeased. She made up her mind to see the girl at all hazards when she should come; but much to the surprise of both mother and daughter, the girl did not put in an appearance.

That day passed, as did also the next and the next. A week went by and lengthened into a fortnight, and still the girl came not.

"You see, my dear, her statement was false!" cried Mrs. St. John, triumphantly. "She feared that we would investigate her story, and she was no doubt a fraud. If you believe all those strange stories you hear, you will have enough to do. She was no doubt looking for hush-money, and when I did not offer to give it to her, you see she did not return."

This seemed quite the truth, as Florence saw it.

How wrong it had been to even suspect him! She made up her mind that if he should broach the subject before the time she had named, she might not refuse his pleading.

She was expecting him that very evening. He came at last, looking so handsome, so buoyant, that the girl's heart went out to him at once, as the hearts of so many women had done.

He brought her some beautiful violets, and he knew he had as good as won her when he saw her fasten them in the bodice of her dress.

Florence St. John was sitting in a velvet arm-chair but a short distance away. Her beautiful face was softened, more so than he had ever seen it before, the smile on her lips was sweeter—the proud, half-defiant, flashing loveliness seemed all at once to grow gentle.

He no longer seemed quite sure of her. It was Florence St. John's silence that alarmed him, perhaps.

"I wish," he cried, "that I knew in what words and in what fashion other men make love."

"Does not your own heart teach you?" asked the young girl, suddenly.

His face flushed at the question.

"Yes," he answered; "but I am not sure that the teachings are of the right kind. You have not answered me, and it must be my fault, either because I have not expressed myself properly or that I have not made myself understood. Florence, I want you—with my whole heart I ask you—I want you to become my wife."

"Am I the first person you have ever told this to?" she asked, slowly, looking him in the face.

Almost every girl he had ever made love to had asked him the same question, and he was not abashed by it.

The ever-ready answer was on his lips instantly.

"How could you ever believe that I had spoken one word of love to any one but yourself," he said, reproachfully. "No other face has ever had the slightest attraction for me. The men of my race have but one love in a life-time. I have never loved before I met you. I shall love you until I die. Are you answered?"

He looked straight into her face as he uttered the falsehood.

There did sweep across his mind, as he uttered the falsehood, the memory of Ida May; but he put it from him quickly.

How strange it was that her memory should always haunt him, try hard as he would to banish it!

"You are quite sure that you never loved any girl but me?" she repeated.

"Quite sure," he responded. "To doubt me causes me great pain, Florence."

"Then forget that I asked the question," she said, sweetly, believing in him implicitly.

"And you will be mine?" he whispered, holding the little hand closer.

"Yes," she answered, solemnly.

He caught her in his arms in a transport of delight.

"Thank you—thank you for those words, Ida!" he cried.

"Did I understand you to call me Ida?" she asked in wonder.

"No," he answered, boldly, cursing himself for the slip of the tongue. "I was about to add: 'I do so thank you,' but you did not give me an opportunity to finish the sentence."

The falsehood was so adroitly told that she believed him.

"I shall have to put a curb on my tongue, or Heaven knows what name I shall be saying next."

Should she tell him of the young girl who was at the door waiting to see him? She remembered her mother's words the next moment, to say nothing of the matter.

"Now that you have been so good as to consent to marry me, we are to consider ourselves engaged. The question is, when will you marry me? It may as well be soon as late."

"Oh, I really don't know about that now," she declared.

"Make me happy by saying that it will be as soon as possible," he urged.

There was no denying anything he asked in that winsome voice.

"I promise," she repeated, after another pause.

He caught her in his arms and strained her to his bosom.

"You have made me the happiest man in the whole wide world, Florence!" he cried, rapturously.

Suddenly his arms fell from her and he reeled backward, staring at the window with widely dilated eyes.

"What is the matter, Royal? Are you ill?" cried Florence, in the greatest terror.

"Some one passed along the porch just outside the window," he panted—"a woman hurrying toward the vestibule door. She will ring the bell in a moment!" he gasped.

At that instant there was a heavy peal at the front door bell.