nd me away. Mrs. Douglas, you do not know how
lonely my life has been--without brother or sister--without father or
mother. It has been like a bit of Paradise to go in and out of your
household; and to think--to hope that perhaps Barbara would sometime
love me and be with me always. My love has become a passion, stronger
than life itself. Look at me! Do you not believe my words, Mrs.
Douglas?"

As Mrs. Douglas lifted her eyes and looked full into the delicate,
almost transparent face so swept by emotion, and met the deathless fire
of Howard's brilliant eyes, she felt as never before the frailty of his
physical life, and wondered at the mighty force of his passionate will.
The conviction came that she was grappling with no slight feeling, but
with that which really might mean life or death to him.

An unfathomable sympathy filled her heart.

"I can talk no more," she said, gently taking in her own the young man's
hand. "I will accept your promise. Come and go as you have, dear Howard.
But always remember that very much depends on your keeping from Barbara
all knowledge of your love."

As soon as it was possible, Mrs. Douglas, as was her wont when in any
anxiety, sought a conference with her brother. After telling him all,
there was complete silence for a moment. Then Mr. Sumner said:--

"And Barbara,--how do you think Barbara feels? For she is not a child
any longer. How old were you, my sister, when you were married? Only
nineteen--and you told me yesterday that we must celebrate Barbara's and
Bettina's eighteenth birthday before very long, and Barbara is older
than her years--more womanly than most girls of her age."

"She has never had a thought of this, I am confident. Of course, she may
have known, have felt, Howard's admiration of her; but I doubt if the
child has ever in her life had the slightest idea of the possible
existence of any such feeling as he is cherishing. It is not ordinary,
Robert, it is overwhelming; you know we have seen his self-will shown in
many ways. The force of his emotion and will now is simply tremendous.
Few girls could withstand it if fully exposed to its influence. There is
all the more danger because the element of pity must enter in, because
he is so evidently frail and lonely. I feel that I have been greatly in
fault. I ought to have foreseen what might happen from admitting so
freely into our home a young man of Howard's age and circumstances. I
have never thought of Barbara an