“And I am sorry to be obliged to say so. But it is true. You are my only friend, Mr. Berners. The only friend I have in the wide, wide world.”
“And do you love me?” inquired Lyon Berners, taking the siren’s hand, and utterly yielding to her allurements; “say, fair one, do you love me?”
“Hush! hush!” breathed Rosa, drawing away her hand and covering her face—“hush! that is a question you must not ask, nor I answer.”
“But—as a brother, I mean?” whispered Lyon.
“Oh! yes, yes, yes! as a dear brother, I love you dearly,” fervently exclaimed Rosa.
“And as a dear sister you shall share my love and care always,” earnestly answered Mr. Berners.
“And you will not be cold to me any longer?”
“No, dear.”
“And you will come and listen to my poor little songs this evening, and let me do my best to amuse you?”
“Yes, dear, I will throw over all other engagements, and delight myself in your heavenly strains to-night,” answered Lyon Berners.