sking himself how much he should tell me. Then he came toward me
impulsively.

"Miss Vaughan and I are engaged to be married," he said. "Some persons
may tell you that the engagement has been broken off; more than once,
I have offered to release her, but she refuses to be released. We love
each other."

The word "love" is a difficult one for us Anglo-Saxons to pronounce;
the voice in which Swain uttered it brought me to my feet, with
outstretched hand.

"If there's anything I can do for you, my boy," I said, "tell me."

"Thank you, Mr. Lester," and he returned my clasp. "You have done a
great deal already in giving me this letter so promptly. The only
other thing you can do is to permit me to stay here until to-night."

"Until to-night?"

"Miss Vaughan asks me to meet her to-night."

"In her father's grounds?"

"Yes."

"Unknown to him?"

"Yes."

"He is not friendly to you?"

"No."

I had a little struggle with myself.

"See here, Swain," I said, "sit down and let us talk this thing over
calmly. Before I promise anything, I should like to know more of the
story. From the glimpse I caught of Miss Vaughan, I could see that she
is very beautiful, and she also seemed to me to be very young."

"She is nineteen," said Swain.

"Her father is wealthy, I suppose?"

"Very wealthy."

"And her mother is dead?"

"Yes."

"Well," I began, and hesitated, fearing to wound him.

"I know what you are thinking," Swain burst in, "and I do not blame
you. You are thinking that she is a young, beautiful and wealthy girl,
while I am a poverty-stricken nonentity, without any profession, and
able to earn just enough to live on--perhaps I couldn't do even that,
if I had to buy my clothes! You are thinking that her father is right
to separate us, and that she ought to be protected from me. Isn't that
it?"

"Yes," I admitted, "something like that."

"And I answer, Mr. Lester, by saying that all that is true, that I am
not worthy of her, and that nobody knows it better than I do. There
are thousands of men who could offer her far more than I can, and who
would be eager to offer it. But when I asked her to marry me, I
thought myself the son of a wealthy man. When I found myself a
pauper, I wrote at once to release her. She replied that when she
wished her release, she would ask for it; that it wasn't my money she
was in love with. Then I came out here and had a talk with her father.
He was kind enough, but pointed out