At that he lifted his head. "Don't be unhappy. It doesn't matter about
me." His eyes glittered. "'All is dross that is not Helena'! I shall
love you as long as I live, even if you don't marry me. Perhaps--
perhaps I wouldn't if you did!"

He did not notice her involuntary start of astonishment, he rose, and
lifting his arms to the sky, stood motionless, rapt, as if in wordless
appeal to heaven. Then his arms dropped. "No," he said, speaking with
curious thoughtfulness: "no; you would be human if you could marry a
fool like me." Helena made a protesting gesture, but he went on,
quietly: "Oh, yes; I am a fool. I've been told so all my life; but I
knew it, anyhow. Nobody need have told me. Of course you couldn't
marry me! If you could, you would be like me. And I would not want
that. No; you are God to me. Stay divine."

Helena put her hands over her ears.

"But please, can't you love me? We needn't be married, if you'd rather
not. If you'll just love me a little?"

The innocence of the plea for love without marriage struck her with a
dull humor that faded into annoyance that she should see the humor. It
was an uncomfortable sensation, and she hated discomfort; in her
desire to escape from it, she spoke with quick impatience. "No, Sam,
of course not,--not the way you want me to. Why, you are just a boy,
you know!" she added, lightly.

But Sam threw himself on his knees beside her, and pressed his head
against her skirts. "Oh, are you _sure_, Mrs. Richie? Why, it
seems to me you might--just a little? Can't you? You see, I'm so