r the utter blindness and
deafness of her very soul to any explanation of his position was too
evident in her face.

"I called to tell you, if you will permit me, how much I regret the
unfortunate state of affairs at the factory," Robert said, and the
girl's eyes met his as with a flash of flame.

"Why did you not prevent it, then?" asked she. Ellen had all the
fire of her family, but a steadiness of manner which never deserted
her. She was never violent.

"I could not prevent it," replied Robert, in a low voice.

Ellen said nothing.

"You mistake my position," said Robert. It was in his mind then to
lay the matter fully before her, as he had disdained to do before
the committee, but her next words deterred him.

"I understand your position very fully," said she.

Robert bowed.

"There is only one way of looking at it," said Ellen, in her
inexpressibly sweet, almost fanatical voice. She tossed her head,
and the fluff of fair hair over her temples caught a beam of
afternoon sunlight.

"She is only a child," thought Robert, looking at her. He rose and
crossed over to the sofa, and sat down beside her with a masterful
impatience. "Look here, Ellen," he said, leaving all general issues
for their own personal ones, "you are not going to let this come
between us?"

Ellen sat stiff and straight, and made no reply.

"All this can make very little difference to you," Robert urged.
"You know how I feel. That is, it can make very little difference to
you if you still feel as you did. You must know that I have only
been waiting--that I am eager and impatient to lift you out of it
all."

Ellen faced him. "Do you think I would be lifted out of it now?" she
said.

"Why, but, Ellen, you cannot--"

"Yes, I can. You do not know me."

"Ellen, you are under a total misapprehension of my position."

"No, I am not. I apprehend it perfectly."

"Ellen, you cannot let this separate us."

Ellen looked straight ahead in silence.

"You at least owe it to me to tell me if, irrespective of this, your
feelings have changed," Robert said, in a low voice.

Ellen said nothing.

"You may have come to prefer some one else," said Robert.

"I prefer no one before my own, before all these poor people who are
a part of my life," Ellen cried out, suddenly, her face flaming.

"Then why do you refuse to let me act for their final good? You must
know what it means to have them thrown out of work in midwinter. You
know the factory