y, keen, Yankee
banker.

"But why, George?" I repeated.

"I don't know why; I told you that. It's because I can't help it, I
suppose. Or because, as I said, I know you better than any one else."

I sighed. "Nobody knows me here," I said.

"One knows you, Ros. I know you."

"You may think you do, but you don't. You can thank God for your
ignorance."

"Maybe I ain't so ignorant."

I looked at him. He was looking me straight in the eye.

"What do you know?" I asked, slowly.

"I know, for one thing, that your name ain't Paine."

I could not answer. I am not certain whether I attempted to speak or
move. I do remember that the pressure of his hand on my knee tightened.

"It's all right, Ros," he said, earnestly. "Nobody knows but me, and
nobody ever shall know if I can help it."

"How--how much do you know?" I stammered.

"Why, pretty much all, I guess. I've known ever since your mother was
taken sick. Some things I read in the paper, and the pictures of--of
your father, put me on, and afterwards I got more certain of it. But
it's all right. Nobody but me knows or shall know."

I leaned my head on my hand. He patted my knee, gently.

"Are--are you sure no one else knows?" I asked.

"Certain sure. There was one time when it might have all come out. A
reporter fellow from one of the Boston papers got on the track somehow
and came down here to investigate. Luckily I was the first man he
tackled, and I steered him away. I presume likely I lied some, but my
conscience is easy so far as that goes."

"And you have told no one? Not even Nellie?"

"No. I tell Nellie most things, but not all--not all."

I remembered afterwards that he sighed as he said this and took his
hand from my knee; but then my agitation was too great to do more than
casually notice it. I rose to my feet.

"George! George!" I cried. "I--I can't say to you what I should like.
But why--WHY did you shield me? And lie for me? Why did you do it? I was
hardly more than a stranger."

He sighed. "Don't know," he answered. "I never could quite see why
a man's sins should be visited on the widows and fatherless. And, of
course, I realized that you and your mother changed your name and came
down here to get away from gossip and talk. But I guess the real reason
was that I liked you, Ros. Love at first sight, same as we read about;
hey?"

He looked up and smiled. I seized his hand.

"George," I said, chokingly, "I did not believe I had a real fr