“Colonel Driscoll,” she said in a low, uneven voice, “my daughter wishes me to say to you that she appreciates deeply the honor you do her, and that if you wish it she will be your wife. She—she is sure she will be happy.”
The colonel felt his heart leap up and hit heavily against his chest. Was it possible? A great gratitude and pride glowed softly through him. He walked nearly up the steps and stood just below her, lifting her hand to his lips.
“My dear, dear child,” he said slowly, “you give me too much, but you must not measure my thankfulness for the gift by my deserts. Whatever a man can do to make you and your mother happy shall be done so long as I live.”
She smiled gravely into his eyes and bowed her head slightly; like all her little motions, it had the effect of a graceful ceremony. Then, slipping loose her hand, she seated herself on a low stool beside her mother’s chair, leaning against
