"Betty, whom do you love?" I asked, also in a whisper.
"You," she murmured meekly--oh, so meekly, my proud little girl!
"Betty," I said brokenly, "I'm old--too old for you--I'm more
than twenty years your senior--I'm--"
"Oh!" Betty wheeled around on me and stamped her foot. "Don't
mention your age to me again. I don't care if you're as old as
Methuselah. But I'm not going to coax you to marry me, sir! If
you won't, I'll never marry anybody--I'll live and die an old
maid. You can please yourself, of course!"
She turned away, half-laughing, half-crying; but I caught her in
my arms and crushed her sweet lips against mine.
"Betty, I'm the happiest man in the world--and I was the most
miserable when I came here."
"You deserved to be," said Betty cruelly. "I'm glad you were.
Any man as stupid as you deserves to be unhappy. What do you
think I felt like, loving you with all my heart, and seeing you
simply throwing me at another man's head. Why, I've always loved
you, Stephen; but I didn't know it until I went to that
detestable school. Then I found out--and I thought that was why
you had sent me. But, when I came home, you almost broke my
heart. That was why I flirted so with all those poor, nice boys
--I wanted to hurt you but I never thought I succeeded. You just
went on being FATHERLY. Then, when you brought Frank here, I
almost gave up hope; and I tried to make up my mind to marry him;
I should have done it if you had insisted.
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