der the elm-tree Arnold turned swiftly, took
Frances's hand in his, and spoke.

"Now, Frances, now; and at last!" he said. "I have waited ten years for
this moment. I have loved you with all my heart and strength for ten
years."

"It was very--very good of you, Philip."

"Good of me! Why do you speak in that cold, guarded voice? Goodness had
nothing to say to the matter. I could not help myself. What's the
matter, Frances? A great change has come over you since the morning. Are
you in trouble? Tell me what is troubling you, my darling?"

Frances began to cry silently.

"You must not use loving words to me," she said; "they--they wring my
heart. I can not tell you what is the matter, Philip, at least for a
week. And--oh! if you would let me answer you in a week--and oh! poor
Philip, I am afraid there is very little hope."

"Why so, Frances; don't you love me?"

"I--I--ought not to say it. Let me go back to the house now."

"I shall do nothing of the kind. Do you love me?"

"Philip, I said I would give you an answer in a week."

"This has nothing to say to your answer. You surely know now whether you
love me or not."

"I--Philip, can't you see? Need I speak?"

"I see that you have kept me at a distance, Frances; that you have left
me alone all day; that you seem very tired and unhappy. What I see--yes,
what I see--does not, I confess, strike me in a favorable light."

Frances, who had been standing all this time, now laid her hand on
Arnold's shoulder. Her voice had grown quiet, and her agitation had
disappeared.

"A week will not be long in passing," she said. "A heavy burden has been
laid upon me, and the worst part is the suspense. If you have waited
ten years, you can wait another week, Philip. I can give you no other
answer to-night."

The hand which unconsciously had been almost caressing in its light
touch was removed, and Frances returned quickly to the house. She came
in by a back entrance, and, going straight to her own room, locked the
door. Thus she could not hear her father when he called her.

But Philip remained for a long time in the elm-walk, hurt, angry, and
puzzled.

CHAPTER X.

"FLUFF WILL SUIT HIM BEST."

Frances spent a very unhappy night. She could not doubt Philip's
affection for her, but she knew very little about men, and was just then
incapable of grasping its depth. Like many another woman, she overlooked
the fact that in absolutely sacrificing herself she also