me.
He asked me--and there were tears in his eyes--not to be so hard on him,
to let him judge for us both in this one thing. He pressed me so, and he
looked so unhappy, that I gave way at last, and said that in a year's
time he might speak again. I remember telling him, as he thanked me very
gratefully, that I should not consider him bound in any way; that I had
so little hope to give him that I had no right to hold him to anything;
if he did not come to me when a year had expired, I should know that he
had changed. There was a gleam in his eyes as I said this that made me
feel for the first time the strength and purpose of a man's will. I grew
timid and embarrassed all at once, and a strange feeling came over me.
Was I, after all, so certain that I should never love him? I could only
breathe freely when he left me.'

'Yes, dear, I understand,' I returned soothingly, for she had covered her
face with her hands, as though overpowered with some recollection.

'Ursula,' she whispered, 'he was right. I had never thought of such
things. I did not know my own feelings. Before three months were over, I
knew I could give him the answer he wanted. I regretted the year's delay;
but for shame, I would have made him understand how it was with me.'

'Could you not have given a sign that your feelings were altered, Gladys?
it would have been generous and kind of you to have ended his suspense.'

'I tried, but it was not easy; but he must have noticed the change in me.
If I were shy and embarrassed with him it was because I cared for him so
much. It used to make me happy only to see him; if he did not speak to
me, I was quite content to know he was in the room. I used to treasure up
his looks and words and hoard them in my memory; it did not seem to me
that any other man could compare with him. You have often laughed at my
hero-worship, but I made a hero of him.'

I was so glad to hear her say this of my dear Max that tears of joy came
to my eyes, but I would not interrupt her by a word: she should tell her
story in her own way.

'Etta had spoken to me long before this. One day when we were sitting
over our work together, and I was thinking happily about Max--Mr.
Cunliffe, I mean.'

'Oh, call him Max to me,' I burst out, but she drew herself up with
gentle dignity.

'It was a mistake: you should not have noticed it. I could never call him
that now.' Poor dear! she had no idea how often she had called him Max in
her feverish