hidden from him. Did she recognize
the nature of the feelings which held him back, or was she simply
gathering up sufficient courage to plead her own cause? Whatever her
reason, it was she, not he, who presently spoke saying as if no time had
elapsed:

"But first, I feel obliged to admit that it was money I wanted, that
I had to have. Not for myself. I lack nothing and could have more if I
wished. Father has never limited his generosity in any matter affecting
myself, but--" She drew a deep breath and, coming out of the shadow,
lifted a face to him so changed from its usual expression as to make him
start. "I have a cause at heart--one which should appeal to my father
and does not; and for that purpose I have sacrificed myself, in many
ways, though--though I have not disliked my work up to this last
attempt. Not really. I want to be honest and so must admit that much.
I have even gloried (quietly and all by myself, of course) over the
solution of a mystery which no one else seemed able to penetrate. I am
made that way. I have known it ever since--but that is a story all by
itself. Some day I may tell it to you, but not now."

"No, not now." The emphasis sent the colour into her cheek but did not
relieve his pallor. "Miss Strange, I have always felt, even in my worst
days, that the man who for selfish ends brought a woman under the shadow
of his own unhappy reputation was a man to be despised. And I think so
still, and yet--and yet--nothing in the world but your own word or
look can hold me back now from telling you that I love you--love you
notwithstanding my unworthy past, my scarring memories, my all but
blasted hopes. I do not expect any response; you are young; you are
beautiful; you are gifted with every grace; but to speak,--to say over
and over again, 'I love you, I love you!' eases my heart and makes my
future more endurable. Oh, do not look at me like that unless--unless--"

But the bright head did not fall, nor the tender gaze falter; and driven
out of himself, Roger Upjohn was about to step passionately forward,
when, seized by fresh compunction, he hoarsely cried:

"It is not right. The balance dips too much my way. You bring me
everything. I can give you nothing but what you already possess
abundance--love, and money. Besides, your father--"

She interrupted him with a glance at once arch and earnest.

"I had a talk with Father this morning. He came to my room, and--and it
was very near being serious