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"No, and I am glad you have told me, for I thought--I
feared you were ashamed of us, and it hurt me a little."
There was a tremor in her voice which made Neil tighten the clasp of his
arm around her, while he bent his head so low that his hair touched her
forehead, as he exclaimed:
"Ashamed of you, Bessie! Never! How could I be ashamed of the dearest,
sweetest little cousin a man ever had? I tell you I am the victim of
circumstances!"
And bending his head still lower, "the victim of circumstances" kissed
the girlish lips, which kissed him back again in token of
reconciliation, and restored faith in him.
Poor, tired Jack, dreaming that night that he was a circus-rider and
jumping through a hoop for Bessie's pleasure, would have felt that all
his fatigue and back ache, and the plaster which caused him so much
discomfort, might have been spared, or at least were wasted on the girl
with whom the kiss given in the deepening twilight was more powerful
than all he had done for her, could he have known of that scene in the
gardens.


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