"I don't see why you say there is anything wrong," she retorted. "What have
_I_ done?"

"Oh, you have not _done_ anything; I take it back. It is all right. But
when I came here this morning--encouraged--hoping--that you had the same
feeling as myself, and you seem to forget everything but a ceremonious
acquaintanceship--why, it is all right, of course. I have no reason to
complain; but I must say that I can't help being surprised." He saw her
lips quiver and her bosom heave. "Marcia, do you blame me for feeling hurt
at your coldness when I came here to tell you--to tell you I--I love you?"
With his nerves all unstrung, and his hunger for sympathy, he really
believed that he had come to tell her this. "Yes," he added, bitterly, I
_will_ tell you, though it seems to be the last word I shall speak to you.
I'll go, now."

"Bartley! You shall _never_ go!" she cried, throwing herself in his way.
"Do you think I don't care for you, too? You may kiss me,--you may _kill_
me, now!"

The passionate tears sprang to her eyes, without the sound of sobs or the
contortion of weeping, and she did not wait for his embrace. She flung her
arms around his neck and held him fast, crying, "I wouldn't let you, for
your own sake, darling; and if I had died for it--I thought I should
die last night--I was never going to let you kiss me again till you
said--till--till--now! Don't you see?" She caught him tighter, and hid
her face in his neck, and cried and laughed for joy and shame, while he
suffered her caresses with a certain bewilderment. "I want to tell you
now--I want to explain," she said, lifting her face and letting him from
her as far as her arms, caught around his neck, would reach, and fervidly