walked back to the fire-place and seated himself on the arm of Carlia's
chair.

"Carlia," he said, "I may be stupid--I am stupid--I've always been
stupid with you. I know it. I confess it to you. I have not always
acted toward you as one who loves you. I don't know why--lay it to my
stupidity. But, Carlia, I do love you. I have always loved you. Yes,
ever since we were children playing in the fields and by the creek and
the ditches. I know now what that feeling was. I loved you then, I love
you now."

The girl arose mechanically from her chair, reached out as if
for support to the mantle. "Why, Oh, why did you not tell me
before--before"--she cried, then swayed as if to a fall. Dorian caught
her and placed her back in the seat. He took her cold hands, but in a
moment, she pulled them away.

"Dorian, please sit down in this other chair, won't you?"

Dorian did as she wanted him to do, but he turned the chair to face her.

"I want you to believe me, Carlia."

"I am trying to believe you."

"Is it so hard as all that?"

"What I fear is that you are doing all this for me out of the goodness
of your heart. Listen, let me say what I want to say--I believe I can
now.... You're the best man I know. I have never met anyone as good as