he cast down her eyes, and the
colour in her cheek grew deeper, she went on: "You know, Paul, that, as
society is constituted, there is but one way in which a young man can
protect a young girl who is not his relative, and that is by marrying
her. Have you thought of that?"

Paul's face flushed a deep crimson, and his forehead reddened to the
roots of the hair; after which the colour receded, and he became quite
pale; and then he flushed again deeper than before, till his eyes became
congested, and he saw Miss Ludington sitting there before him, with
downcast eyes and a spot of colour in either cheek, as through a fiery
mist.

Yes, he had thought of it.

The idea that, being of mystery though she was, Ida was still a woman,
and that he might one day possess her as other men possess their wives,
had come to him, but it had caused such an ungovernable ferment in his
blood, and savoured withal of such temerity, that he had been fairly
afraid to indulge it. In the horizon of his mind it had hovered as a
dream of unimaginable felicity which might some day in the far future
come to pass; but that was all.

Finally he said, in a husky voice, "I love her."

"I know you do," replied Miss Ludington. "No one but myself knows how you
have loved her. You are the only man in the world worthy of her, but you
are worthy even of her."

"But she would not marry me," said Paul. "She is very good to me, but she
has never thought of such a thing. It is I that love her, and she is very
good to let me; but she does not love me. How should she?"

"I think she does," said Miss Ludington, with a tone of quiet assurance.
"I have never said anything to her about it; but I have observed her. A
woman can generally read a woman in that particular, and it would be
especially strange if I could not read her. I do not think that you need
to be afraid of her answer. I shall not urge her by a word; but if she is
willing to be your wife, it will be by far the best way her future could
be provided for. Then, however soon I might die, she would not miss me."

Paul had heard distinctly only her first words, in which she had stated
her belief that Ida loved him and would probably be his wife. This
intimation had set up such a turmoil in his brain that he had not been
able to follow what she had subsequently said. There was a roaring in his
ears. Her voice seemed to come from very far away, nor did he remember
how long afterwards it was that he left he