Betty colored crimson. There was no mistaking his words, and the look that accompanied them.
"Yes," he continued, "without you, my life will be a useless hollow affair. With you, I believe it would be worth while. Your very presence exalts me to better things. O, could you,—could you stoop to poor insignificant me?"
His humility was genuine, and Betty beheld the absolute prostration of a man's heart at her feet.
She gazed at him with a look of great sorrow.
"Oh, have I led you to this?" she asked gently. "I shall never forgive myself to have let you so misunderstand me!" she exclaimed in sudden self blame.
"Misunderstand you?" he said, and there was a slight bitterness in his tone. "I would not dream that you could love me! I only ask permission to love you!" he declared passionately. "You—my salvation from life's pitiful 'Nothingness!'"
She regarded him with pity and surprise.
"You ask no love from me in return?" she asked tremulously.
"None!" he pleaded, "Perhaps some day my devotion may give it birth, but I shall expect nothing! Don't, don't refuse me, or—I'm a lost soul! I possess no strength in myself. I know it. I have lived to learn my cradle's curse. But I have the power of loving—poor dog-like trait! You could strike me now, and I would still turn to lick your hand!"
His wild devotion made her tremble. Did she indeed hold this man's soul in her hands? Was he really weak and helpless without her? Perhaps God had sent him to her for her care to save.