until I was forthcoming. Certainly, whatever tenderness I had missed in
former years was amply lavished on me now. Evelyn, Mabel--all former
idols sank out of sight in my presence, and the very touch of my hand,
the sound of my voice, seemed to inspire him with happiness and a new
sense of security. Sometime I flattered myself that I had earned this
affection, since it had not seemed my birthright, nor come to me
earlier; but no, it was the grace of God, I must believe, touching his
heart at last, as the rod of Moses brought forth waters from the rock.
Yet the simile is at fault here: my father's heart was never a stone,
but tender and true and constant ever, even if locked away.

It may seem strange, but from the very evidences of his carelessness, as
they seemed to others, I gathered, after a time, the blissful conviction
that Claude Bainrothe was not indifferent to me. His reserve, his
moroseness almost, the despairing way in which he spoke sometimes of his
future life, his want of purpose, of interest in what was passing around
him, his entire self-possession with Evelyn, so different from his
embarrassment with me; his manner of pursuing me with his eyes, and
holding me fast, and the long sidelong glances he often dropped at my
feet like offerings, as I detected his vigilance--all persuaded me that
what I most wished to believe was true, and that I had awakened interest
if not passion in his heart, for--at last, I loved him!

The time came when his own lips confirmed my suspicions, my hopes--when
faintly, and in broken accents, he related to me the story of his love;
mine, as he declared, since the evening of our first meeting; and asked
my troth in turn. I was so inexperienced in matters of this sort, I
scarcely knew how to behave, I suppose; besides, I never thought of
giving any other reply than the one he craved, for I too had inclined to
him from the first. I recognized this now, and did not deny it when he
urged me for the truth, holding my hands in his, and looking into my
eyes in a deep and tender and devoted way peculiar to himself, that
thrilled to my very life--an adoring expression that I have seen in no
other gaze than his own, and which cast a glamour about him, I well
believe, irresistible wherever it was exercised.

It was in September that we became engaged, with the joyful coincidence
of Mr. Bainrothe, the somewhat reluctant consent of my father, the
half-derisive approbation of Evelyn, the entir