Page:The Van Roon (IA thevanroon00snaiiala).pdf/64

 paint,"—he sighed gently,—"I could never rest until I had put you on canvas just as you stand at this moment."

It was clear that he had forgotten completely that this was the niece of his employer. She also forgot that no young man had ventured yet to speak to her like that. This was William the wonderful who was addressing her, and his voice was music, his eyes slow fire, his whole being a golden web of poetry and romance.

"You oughtn't to give away such a thing," she persisted, but with none of her usual force. "It's valuable; and I oughtn't to take it." The sound of her voice, she knew only too well, was thin and strange.

"Please, please take it, Miss June," he quaintly entreated her. "It will give me more pleasure to know that you are caring for it, and that its beauty speaks to you than if I kept it all to myself. I love it, but you love it, too. If you'll share the happiness it brings me, then I shall love it even more."

Shadows of the evening were now in the room. His face was half hidden, and the wildness of her heart scarcely allowed his voice to be heard. She thought no longer of the worth of the gift, nor was she now concerned with the propriety of its acceptance. Her mind was in the grip of other things. Was it to herself he was speaking? Or was he speaking merely to a fellow worshipper of beauty? To such questions there could be no answer; she trembled at the daring which gave them birth.

His mere presence was a lure. She longed to touch his hand very gently, and would perhaps have done