Patches was looking at her intently, with an expression in his dark eyes that Kitty had never before seen.  The man’s mind was in a whirl of quick excitement.  As they had talked and laughed together, the thought that had so startled him, when her manner of familiar comradeship had brought such a feeling of comfort to his troubled spirit, had not left him.  From that first moment of their meeting a year before there had been that feeling between them, of companionship, a feeling which had grown as their acquaintance had developed into the intimate friendship that had allowed him to speak to her as he had spoken that day under the cedars on the ridge.  What might that friendship not grow into!  He thought of her desire for the life that he knew so well, and how he could, while granting every wish of her heart, yet protect her from the shams and falseness.  And with these thoughts was that feeling of rebellion against the loneliness of his life.

Kitty’s words regarding Phil removed the barrier, as it were, and the man’s nature, which prompted him so often to act without pausing to consider, betrayed him into saying, “Would you be greatly shocked, Kitty, if I were to tell you that I am glad?  That, while I am sorry for Phil, I am glad that you have said no to him?”

“You are glad?” she said wonderingly.  “Why?”

“Because, now, I am free to say what I could not have said had you not told me what you have.  I want you, Kitty.  I want to fill your life with beauty and happiness and contentment.  I want you to go with me to see and know the natural wonders of the world, and the wonders that men have wrought.  I want to surround you with the beauties of art and literature, with everything that your heart craves.  I want you to know the people whose friendship would be a delight to you.  Come with me, girl—­be my wife, and together we will find—­if not paradise, at least a full and useful and contented and happy life.  Will you come, Kitty?  Will you come with me?”

As she listened her eyes grew big with wonder and delight.  It was as though some good genie had suddenly opened wide the way to an enchanted laud.  Then the gladness went swiftly from her face, and she said doubtingly, “You are jesting with me, Patches.”

As she spoke his cowboy name, the man laughed aloud.  “I forgot that you do not even know me—­I mean, that you do not know my name.”

“Are you some fairy prince in disguise, Sir Patches?”

“Not a fairy, dear, and certainly not a prince; just a man, that’s all.  But a man, dear girl, who can offer you a clean life, an honored name, and all of which I have spoken.  But I must tell you—­I always knew that I would tell you some day, but I did not dream that it would be to-day.  My name is Lawrence Knight.  My home is in Cleveland, Ohio.  Your father can easily satisfy himself as to my family and my own personal life and standing.  It is enough for me to assure you now, dear, that I am abundantly able to give you all that I have promised.”