upon you, an annoyance
or trespass, an anxiety or self-reproach--or anything that will make
you want to get rid of it," he finished, smiling again; "and to let me
give you all I wish, on the condition that I ask no return. And if, in
a few years, I should ask to come and live near you, and be good
friends--may I? It would be hard," he urged, less quietly, "that I
should have to lose your friendship, when I ask nothing more. Would
you take away the crumbs from me, just because I have lost the loaf?"

"Is that best, Will?" she began, anxious and hesitating. "Oh, I mean
for you. It isn't _possible_ that you can always--think of me--so.
There is no reason. If you do not see me--somebody else--"

"Have I been seeing you these dozen years?" he said, very gently. "You
may trust me to know what is best for me. Why think--think a moment,
dear friend, and you will understand. You, of all people, _can_
understand the plane I want you to take me on."

Winifred's eyes kindled and her face flushed. "I see. I _do_
understand. I can meet you on your own plane, and I can trust your
friendship and you. I am not afraid to have you come--after a year or
two."

"Thank you," he said, shaken as he had not been.

"It is because you are very noble that any good can come out of this
harm," she went on, with an eloquent tremor in her voice. "I can see
that before very long I shall be, as you said, willing--glad--for so
great a gift--only always sorry for your sake. I am very grateful
_now_--I cannot tell you how great a thing I think it is--from such a
man as you."

They had both become embarrassed and shy now, and both stood silent to
recover their ease. "You leave by this evening's train?" he asked in a
minute.

"Yes."

"Then this is good-by."

"For a while."

They moved together to the door. As they reached it, Will turned and
held out his hand, with an attempt at a smile. They stood a few
moments with hands clasped. Winifred's downcast eyes were filling.

"Good-by, Winifred," he said.

"Good-by," she answered, faintly. A minute later she had thrown
herself sobbing on her bed, and he was walking down the street.

He met Winifred's lover, coming from the ticket-office--a gentleman
high-bred and handsome in every line, a scholar by his appearance, a
good man by his eyes, a good companion by his smile. There were all
those differences between him and Will that the young man had talked
of and Winifred in all sincerity had called