"Yes," she said, her heart beating furiously, for, woman-like, she knew what was coming. The lovely color on her cheeks deepened, the girl's blue eyes grew luminous and tender.
"Florence," he cried, "how shall I tell you what I have to say? Oh, Florence, let me tell it quickly, lest my courage fail! I love you, dear—love you as I have never loved any one in my life before!"
Looking into the dark, handsome face of the young man before her, Florence St. John saw that she was in the presence of a mighty passion—a great love.
In an instant he was kneeling by her side, his whole soul in his eyes and on his lips. It was the very first time in his life that Royal Ainsley's heart was ever stirred with love.
If Florence St. John had even been poor, he would have cared for her. He started in first by wanting the girl for her money; it ended by his wanting her for herself.
He caught the little hand in his that was carrying the beautiful bouquet of roses he had sent her, and held it tightly.
"Thank Heaven!" he said, "the time has come at last, my beautiful love, for which I have waited so long. Surely you know what I have to tell you, Florence!" he said, drawing back and looking at her.
"I haven't the least idea," declared the girl, in whom the spirit of coquetry was strong. "Really, I do not understand."
"There needs be no understanding, my beautiful love!" he cried. "None! I have come to tell you in words what I have already told you a hundred times in a hundred different ways—I love you with all my heart! I love you! I know no other words. There is none which can tell how dearly or how much all my heart, my soul, my life goes out in those few words—I love you!"