I had to look her in the eyes, since nothing else would do her; and, as I did so, all the might of manhood in me rose up in hot revolt against the lie I would have told her.  That unfaltering, impelling gaze of hers drew the truth from my lips in spite of myself.

“No, I don’t wish you to marry Frank Douglas, a thousand times no!” I said passionately.  “I don’t wish you to marry any man on earth but myself.  I love you—­I love you, Betty.  You are dearer to me than life—­dearer to me than my own happiness.  It was your happiness I thought of—­and so I asked you to marry Frank because I believed he would make you a happy woman.  That is all!”

Betty’s defiance went from her like a flame blown out.  She turned away and drooped her proud head.

“It could not have made me a happy woman to marry one man, loving another,” she said, in a whisper.

I got up and went over to her.

“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.  But I had to have one more try for happiness first.  I had just one little hope to inspire me with sufficient boldness.  I saw you, that night, when you came back here and picked up my rose!  I had come back, myself, to be alone and unhappy.”

“It is the most wonderful thing that ever happened—­that you should love me,” I said.

“It’s not—­I couldn’t help it,” said Betty, nestling her brown head on my shoulder.  “You taught me everything else, Stephen, so nobody but you could teach me how to love.  You’ve made a thorough thing of educating me.”