"Suzanne," he said at length.

"Yes," she answered; "what is it?" But he made no answer, for though
many words were bubbling in his brain, they choked in his throat, and
would not come out of it.

"Suzanne," he stammered again presently, and again she asked him what it
was, and again he made no answer. Now she laughed a little and said:

"Ralph, you remind me of the blue-jay in the cage upon the _stoep_ which
knows but one word and repeats it all day long."

"Yes," he replied, "it is true; I am like that jay, for the word I
taught it is 'Suzanne,' and the word my heart teaches me is 'Suzanne,'
and--Suzanne, I love you!"

Now she turned her head away and looked down and answered:

"I know, Ralph, that you have always loved me since we were children
together, for are we not brother and sister?"

"No," he answered bluntly, "it is not true."

"Then that is bad news for me," she said, "who till to-day have thought
otherwise."

"It is not true," he went on, and now his words came fast enough, "that
I am your brother, or that I love you as a brother. We are no kin, and
if I love you as a brother that is only one little grain of my love for
you--yes, only as one little grain is to the whole sea-shore of sand.