inadvartance." And then rising and lifting the girl tenderly,
he added, "We'd best go to bed now, Lissy, an' mebbe Mr. Page, bein' a
lawyer, can 'splain matters to Telly."

When they had left the room Albert seated himself on the sofa to which
the girl had gone, and said: "I am a trifle puzzled and a little
disappointed, Telly, at the way you feel about this inheritance. It is
rightfully yours and will enable you to do much for the future comfort
of those you are devoted to. I had hoped, also, it would relieve your
feeling of obligation a little."

"No money can do that," she answered quickly, "and all this won't be
worth to father the care he has grown accustomed to from me. It was his
feeling that I was likely to leave him, though, that upset me, and then
that name you called me by hurt a little."

"Still the same Chinese wall of filial duty," thought Albert, and
growing desperate at the prospect of possible years of waiting and
heart-hunger he continued:

"But won't this money do more for them than you can, Telly? Is there any
need of his remaining here to putter over lobster traps and drive a
wagon, rain or shine? He is getting too old for that, anyway. Why not
build a home for them in Boston, or better still, share ours there?"

It was the first suggestion of what was nearest his heart, and a flush
came over Telly's face.

"We haven't a home there yet," she answered, turning her face away.

"But we will have, darling," he answered quickly, seizing the opening,
"and as soon as you consent I shall begin to make it ready. It is
folly," he added hurriedly, as if to forestall any negation, "for us to
go on this way any longer. I want you, darling, and I want a home. Life
to me, with you buried here, is only desolation, and how much so to you,
the past five months can only tell. I know how you feel toward these
good people, and your care for them shall be my care."

Once more Telly hid her face behind her hands, the better to think,
perhaps, or to hide rebellious tears. And now she felt herself gathered
within strong arms and a hand making both hers prisoners, and as she
yielded a little to his clasp he whispered: "Do not say 'no' again,
Telly! Do not rob yourself and me of love and home and happiness any
longer! Make what plans for them you wish; do as you will with your
heritage; all I plead for is you. Must I be deprived of my hoped-for
happiness." It was an eloquent plea, and the last suggestion of the
morro