A moment's silence came after Peter's return to the fire. Then he said: "Will you give it to me, Miss D'Alloi?" But his voice in truth, made the words, "Give me what I ask, my darling."

"Yes," said Leonore softly. "On your birthday." Then Leonore shrank back a little, as if afraid that her gift would be sought sooner. No young girl, however much she loves a man, is quite ready for that first kiss.

A man's lips upon her own are too contrary to her instinct and previous training to make them an unalloyed pleasure. The girl who is over-ready for her lover's first kiss, has tasted the forbidden fruit already, or has waited over-long for it.

Peter saw the little shrinking and understood it. What was more, he heeded it as many men would not have done. Perhaps there was something selfish in his self-denial, for the purity and girlishness which it indicated were very dear to him, and he hated to lessen them by anything he did. He stood quietly by her, and merely said, "I needn't tell you how happy I am!"

Leonore looked up into Peter's face. If Leonore had seen there any lack of desire to take her in his arms and kiss her, she would never have forgiven him. But since his face showed beyond doubt that he was longing to do it, Leonore loved him all the better for his repression of self, out of regard for her. She slipped her little hand into Peter's confidingly, and said, "So am I." It means a good deal when a girl does not wish to run away from her lover the moment after she has confessed her love.

So they stood for some time, Leonore looking down into the fire, and Peter looking down at Leonore.

Finally Peter said, "Will you do me a great favor?"

"No," said Leonore, "I've done enough for one night. But you can tell me what it is."

"Will you look up at me?"

"What for?" said Leonore, promptly looking up.

"I want to see your eyes," said Peter.

"Why?" asked Leonore, promptly looking down again.

"Well," said Peter, "I've been dreaming all my life about some eyes, and I want to see what my dream is like in reality."

"That's a very funny request," said Leonore perversely. "You ought to have found out about them long ago. The idea of any one falling in love, without knowing about the eyes!"

"But you show your eyes so little," said Peter. "I've never had a thoroughly satisfying look at them."

"You look at them every time I look at you," said Leonore. "Sometimes it was very embarra.s.sing. Just supposing that I showed them to you now, and that you find they aren't what you like?"

"I never waste time discussing impossibilities," said Peter. "Are you going to let me see them?"

"How long will it take?"

"I can tell better after I've seen them," said Peter, astutely.

"I don't think I have time this evening," said Leonore, still perversely, though smiling a look of contentment down into the fire.

Peter said nothing for a moment, wishing to give Leonore's conscience a chance to begin to p.r.i.c.k. Then be ended the silence by saying: "If I had anything that would give you pleasure, I wouldn't make you ask for it twice."

"That's--different," said Leonore. "Still, I'll--well, look at them,"

and Leonore lifted her eyes to Peter's half laughingly and half timidly.

Peter studied those eyes in silence--studied them till Leonore, who did not find that steady look altogether easy to bear, and yet was not willing to confess herself stared out of countenance, asked: "Do you like them?"

"Yes," said Peter.

"Is that all you can say? Other people have said very complimentary things!" said Leonore, pretending to be grieved over the monosyllable, yet in reality delighting in its expressiveness as Peter said it.

"I think," said Peter, "that before I can tell you what I think of your eyes, we shall have to invent some new words."

Leonore looked down again into the fire, smiling a satisfied smile.

Peter looked down at that down-turned head, also with a satisfied smile.

Then there was another long silence. Incidentally it is to be noted that Peter still held the hand given him some time before. To use a poker term, Peter was standing "pat," and wished no change. Once or twice the little hand had hinted that it had been held long enough, but Peter did not think so, and the hand had concluded that it was safest to let well alone. If it was too cruel It might rouse the sleeping lion which the owner of that hand knew to exist behind that firm, quiet face.

Presently Peter put his unoccupied hand in his breast-pocket, and produced a small sachet. "I did something twice," he said, "that I have felt very meanly about at times. Perhaps you'll forgive me now?" He took from the sachet, a glove, and a small pocket-handkerchief, and without a word showed them to Leonore.

Leonore looked at them. "That's the glove I lost at Mrs. Costell's, isn't it?" she asked gravely.

Peter nodded his head.

"And is that the handkerchief which disappeared in your rooms, at your second dinner?"

Peter nodded his head.

"And both times you helped me hunt for them?"

Peter nodded his head. He at last knew how prisoners felt when he was cross-examining them.

"I knew you had them all the time," said Leonore laughing. "It was dreadfully funny to see you pretend to hunt, when the guilty look on your own face was enough to show you had them. That's why I was so determined to find them."

Peter knew how prisoners felt when the jury says, "Not guilty."

"But how did the holes come in them?" said Leonore. "Do you have mice in your room?" Leonore suddenly looked as worried as had Peter the moment before.

Peter put his hand in the sachet, and produced a bent coin. "Look at that," he said.

"Why, it's my luck-piece!" exclaimed Leonore. "And you've spoiled that too. What a careless boy!"

"No," said Peter. "They are not spoiled to me. Do you know what cut these holes and bent this coin?"

"What?"

"A bullet."

"Peter!"

"Yes. Your luck-piece stopped it, or I shouldn't be here."

"There," said Leonore triumphantly, "I said you weren't hurt, when the news of the shooting came, because I knew you had it. I was so glad you had taken it!"

"I am going to give it back to you by and by," said Peter.

"I had rather that you should have it," said Leonore. "I want you to have my luck."

"I shall have it just the same even after I've given it to you," said Peter.

"How?"