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Rh "Yes!" said I, so emphatically that he almost dropped my hand (but not quite).

"Then, Molly, I must tell you that I love you."

With that I looked into his face, our eyes met, and—I really can not write it.

But we came to a perfect understanding; those strange forebodings and that vague unrest left me, and I became singularly calm. I knew now that life was worth living, box or no box.

It seems that Oliver had loved me from the very first, though he had not intended to tell me so until after the search bad ended. For he did not believe we would find the box, and he did not want my family to think he was a fortune hunter. (The very idea!) But finding me alone that evening and the time so nearly up, he threw caution to the winds—and there we were.

Gratitude welled within me that I had been spared the discovery of the box. Then the startling thought came, suppose I had found it! What then? I solemnly propounded this question to Oliver. But before he could reply my sisters came in, and to this day I do not know what his answer would have been.

The next morning mother was still quite miserable, and sent word that she did not wish to be disturbed. The girls came to breakfast with red eyes and an aversion to cheerful subjects of conversation. They realized, poor things, that this was to be the last day in the dear old house. I tried my best to be solemn, too, but the joy within would bubble up.

An hour after breakfast I slipped out to take a walk towards the business part of the town. I said that I wanted to buy some thread, then tried to feel sorry as I thought of the time coming when even thread would be considered a luxury by my family.

To buy the thread I was obliged to pass a certain office; of course I did not dream of seeing Oliver, and to preclude such a possibility I kept on the opposite side of the street. But when I got just opposite the office, I timidly raised my eyes to see the place where my beloved passed so many hours each day.

There I saw something which first turned me to stone, and then