“Please get up,” she said; for Mr. Joe, feeling very humble and very earnest, had gone down upon his knees, and sat there entirely regardless of his personal appearance.

He obeyed; and Debby stood looking up at him with her kindest aspect, as she said, more tenderly than she had ever spoken to him before,—­

“Thank you for the affection you offer me, but I cannot accept it, for I have nothing to give you in return but the friendliest regard, the most sincere good-will.  I know you will forgive me, and do for your own sake the good things you would have done for mine, that I may add to my esteem a real respect for one who has been very kind to me.”

“I’ll try,—­indeed, I will, Miss Dora, though it will be powerful hard without yourself for a help and a reward.”

Poor Joe choked a little, but called up an unexpected manliness, and added, stoutly,—­

“Don’t think I shall be offended at your speaking so, or saying ‘No’ to me,—­not a bit; it ’s all right, and I’m much obliged to you.  I might have known you couldn’t care for such a fellow as I am, and don’t blame you, for nobody in the world is good enough for you.  I’ll go away at once, I’ll try to keep my promise, and I hope you’ll be very happy all your life.”

He shook Debby’s hands heartily, and hurried down the steps, but at the bottom paused and looked back.  Debby stood upon the threshold with sunshine dancing on her winsome face, and kind words trembling on her lips; for the moment it seemed impossible to part, and, with an impetuous gesture, he cried to her,—­

“Oh, Dora, let me stay and try to win you! for everything is possible to love, and I never knew how dear you were to me till now!”

There were sudden tears in the young man’s eyes, the flush of a genuine emotion on his cheek, the tremor of an ardent longing in his voice, and, for the first time, a very true affection strengthened his whole countenance.  Debby’s heart was full of penitence; she had given so much pain to more than one that she longed to atone for it,—­longed to do some very friendly thing, and soothe some trouble such as she herself had known.  She looked into the eager face uplifted to her own and thought of Will, then stooped and touched her lover’s forehead with the lips that softly whispered, “No.”

If she had cared for him, she never would have done it; poor Joe knew that, and murmuring an incoherent “Thank you!” he rushed away, feeling very much as he remembered to have felt when his baby sister died and he wept his grief away upon his mother’s neck.  He began his preparations for departure at once, in a burst of virtuous energy quite refreshing to behold, thinking within himself, as he flung his cigar-case into the grate, kicked a billiard-ball into a corner, and suppressed his favorite allusion to the Devil,—­

“This is a new sort of thing to me, but I can bear it, and upon my life I think I feel the better for it already.”