"You didn't want the beautifulest girl in the
world to be telling me.----"
Down went the Angel's face and a heavy sob shook her. Freckles' clasp
tightened around her shoulders, while his face, in its conflicting
emotions, was a study. He was so stunned and bewildered by the miracle
that had been performed in bringing to light his name and relatives that
he had no strength left for elaborate mental processes. Despite all
it meant to him to know his name at last, and that he was of honorable
birth--knowledge without which life was an eternal disgrace and burden
the one thing that was hammering in Freckles' heart and beating in his
brain, past any attempted expression, was the fact that, while nameless
and possibly born in shame, the Angel had told him that she loved him.
He could find no word with which to begin to voice the rapture of his
heart over that. But if she regretted it--if it had been a thing done
out of her pity for his condition, or her feeling of responsibility, if
it killed him after all, there was only one thing left to do.
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