come directly to New York and seek your aid;
I felt sure you would be as willing to help me as upon a previous
occasion."

"Certainly I would--you judged me rightly," the young man responded,
"but"--bending nearer to her and speaking in a slightly reproachful
tone--"tell me, please, what was your object in leaving New York so
unceremoniously?"

He felt the slight shock which went quivering through her at the
question, and smiled to himself at her hesitation before she replied:

"I--I thought it was best," she faltered at last.

"Why for the 'best'?--for you or for me? Tell me, please," he pleaded,
gently.

"For--both," she replied in a scarcely audible tone that thrilled him
and made his face gleam with sudden tenderness.

"I--you will pardon me if I speak plainly--I thought it very strange,"
he remarked gravely. "It almost seemed to me as if you were fleeing
from me, for I fully expected that you would return to the office on
Thursday morning, as I had appointed. Had I done anything to offend
you or drive you away--Edith?"

"No--oh, no," she quickly returned.

"I am very glad to know that," said her companion, a slight
tremulousness in his tones, "for I have feared that I might have
betrayed my feelings in a way to wound or annoy you; for, Edith--I can
no longer keep the secret--I had learned to love you with all my heart
during that week that you spent in my office, and I resolved, on
parting with you at the carriage, the morning of your release, to
confess the fact to you as soon as you returned to the office, ask you
to be my wife and thus let me stand between you and the world for all
time. Nay,"--as Edith here made a little gesture as if to check
him--"I must make a full confession now, while I have the opportunity.
I was almost in despair when I received your brief note telling me
that you had left the city and without giving me the slightest clew to
your destination. All my plans, all my fond anticipations, were dashed
to the earth, dear. I loved you so I felt that I could not bear the
separation. I love you still, my darling--my heart leaped for joy this
afternoon when I received your telegram. And now, while I have you
here all to myself, I have dared to tell you of it, and beg you to
tell me if there is any hope for me? Can you love me in return!--will
you be my wife--?"

"Oh, hush! you forget the wretched tie that binds me to that villain
in Boston," cried Edith, and there was such keen pain in