and agreeable, she did not seem to understand my feeling exactly, although
I tried in every way to show her my heart. She was not coquettish, but
perfectly unaffected, and simply did not realize my meaning. For once the
sign language did not prove adequate; and so, as my feelings would not be
controlled, I was fain to resort to my natural tongue, and poured forth my
love to my own satisfaction if not to her comprehension. I did not stint
the words, astonishing myself at the fullness of my vocabulary, and hoping
that the fervor of my manner and the passion exhibited in my voice would
make the right impression on my companion.

Day after day, as opportunity offered, I returned to the same theme. Mona
was sympathetic in her own charming way, but apparently not affected in
the manner I was looking for. And still, "I love you, I love you," was
repeated in her ears a thousand times. The fact that she did not
understand the words made me all the more voluble, and I lavished my
affectionate terms upon her without restraint.

One day, after this had been going on for some time, the doctor came in
from a walk and found us together as usual. He had a rare blossom in his
hand, and stepping to Mona's side he offered it to her with some
gallantry. She accepted it with a beaming countenance which set my heart
to thumping, and then she burst forth in a strain so sweet that it
thrilled my whole being and roused in me again that jealous fear that Mona
was learning to care more for the doctor than for me. But how shall I
describe my emotions when she suddenly blended syllables of our language
with the accents of her song, and, still looking into the doctor's eyes,
closed her entrancing melody with the burning words, "I love you"?

I wonder how other men have borne such a shock as that. It seemed to me
that by simply living during the next few minutes I was proving myself