you be my wife?"

Still she did not reply.

"Are you afraid to risk it?" he asked, almost sadly.

"No, I am not afraid! I will risk everything!" she answered.

Meantime, what of Margie Harrison? Through the dull, stormy day she had
been whirled along like the wind. The train was an express, and made few
stoppages. Margie took little note of anything which occurred. She sat
in her hard seat like one in a trance, and paid no heed to the lapse of
time, until the piteous whining of Leo warned her that night was near,
and the poor dog was hungry. At the first stopping-place she purchased
some bread and meat for him, but nothing for herself. She could not have
swallowed a mouthful.

Still the untiring train dashed onward. Boston was reached at last.
She got out, stood confused and bewildered, gazing around her. It was
night, and the place was strange to her. The cries of the porters and
hackmen--the bustle and dire confusion, struck a chill to her heart. The
crowd hurried hither and thither, each one intent on his own business,
and the lamps gave out a dismal light, dimmed as they were by the hanging
clouds of mist and fog. Alone in a great city! For the first time in her
life she felt the significance of the words she had so often heard. She
had never traveled a half dozen miles before, by herself, and she felt
almost as helpless as a little child.

"Carriage, ma'am?" said a hackman, touching her arm.