The young man would have persisted; but Dora, gravely shaking her head, said,—
"Karl dear, you only distress me, and I want to be quiet. Do not speak of this again for at least another year, and then, perhaps, you will not want to."
"But in a year I may, if I do want to?" asked Karl eagerly.
"I don't want to say that; for I don't know that I should want you to then," said Dora, with such exquisite simplicity, that the young man laughed outright, and said,—
"But you don't know that you sha'n't, do you, darling Dorelle?"
"I didn't say so."
"No; but—Well, I won't insist; only I shall put down the date. Let me see: Aug. 24, isn't it?"
He took out his note-book, wrote a few words, and, glancing at Dora with a suppressed smile, put it away again. Then, more seriously, he took her hand, saying,—
"Only remember one thing, Dora; and that is, whatever may come in the future, this house is your home as long as it is ours; and, while I live, there is always some one who loves you best of all God's creatures."