not think I was going to forfeit your good
opinion. What can I do? I can't help his liking me. I like him too, and
that makes me feel so badly."

"Do you like him better than Mr. Denham?"

"Better than Fred?" in a tone of surprise. "Why no, of course not: I
have known Fred always."

"The best thing will be to tell him of Mr. Denham."

"Oh no, I never can."

"_I_ will, then."

"Don't, I beseech you. We shall go away soon, and that will be the end
of it. Promise me you will not. I would rather tell him myself if I ever
have a chance."

I looked in to see my invalid friend, and then descended to the parlor,
where I found the young count almost alone. He looked up eagerly as I
entered: "I thought Miss St. Clair was with you. I have been waiting for
her all the evening."

"Indeed!"

"I told her at table that I wished to see her particularly this
evening."

"Perhaps she did not understand you."

"Oh yes, she did. You would not let her come?" with a sudden lighting up
of the expressive face.

"I did not forbid her coming: I did not know that you were waiting for
her."

Then with sudden boyish candor and a happy smile on his animated
countenance "I thought you might have observed that I come here so often
because I like to talk with Miss St. Clair. But you never can know how
dearly I love her."

"I am sorry."

"Why?" with a naive surprise.

"She is older than you."

"How old is she?"

"She will be twenty in May."

"And I am nineteen this very week. What is one poor little year?--not a
year," gleefully.

"But the difference in religion?"

"An obstacle, I grant, but not an insuperable one. My uncle married an
English lady, a Protestant, and they have been very happy together."

"But I think there is another man," I stammered, surprised at finding my
outposts carried so easily.

"You do not mean to say that she is compromised with any man?" almost
fiercely.

"I do not know what meaning you attach to that word," for the count's
imperfect French was not always intelligible. "There is a young man, the
son of a neighbor, who has admired her a long time."

"Oh, he admires her?" with a curl of the exquisite lips, as if to say,
"Who does not?"

"But I think she may like him a little."

"Why do you torture me so? Tell me at once that they are betrothed,"
cried he, pale with concentrated anger.

He thought she had trifled with him, I knew instantly, but quietly said,
"I cannot tell you exactly in