ak to you this morning for your own sweet sake--not mine. I was
driven to it to protect your good name, and keep you out of the mouths
of those shallow-pated creatures, who have nothing else to talk about
but other people's failings. Had Clara Rutland once seen me speak to
you--had she for one moment suspected the least acquaintance between
us, that hydra-headed monster, Curiosity, would have lifted its
unpitying voice in a hundred awkward questions: 'How did you come to
know Mell Creecy? Where did you meet her? Who introduced you to her?'
And so on to the end of a long chapter. I did not wish to say, for
your sake, that I had never met you anywhere but in a cornfield. I did
not wish to say, for your sake, that we had became acquainted in a
very delightful, but by no means conventional, manner. I have thought
it best, all along, to keep the fact of our acquaintance in the
background, until we were brought together in some way perfectly
legitimate and customary. Always for your sake, dear, not mine. Now
you know in part; to-morrow I will make a clean breast of all my
difficulties; so disperse these clouds, and give me one sweet look ere
I go."

Instead of that, Mell swallowed a lump in her throat which felt as
big as her head. She studiously avoided, for the rest of the day,
any further speech with Jerome. His explanation was plausible
enough on its face; but Mell was in no condition of mind to draw
conclusions which might stand the test of reason, or be satisfactorily
demonstrated on geometrical principles; and nothing that Jerome
could say was now calculated to act as a sedative on Mell's nerves.
She kept whispering to herself, "He feels it, yes, he feels it;"
and thus nourished the firmness and the bravado necessary to her in
the further requirements of her high position. She needed it all, and
more, when it came to bestowing upon Jerome a handsome pair of
spurs, as the second prize of the day. Certainly he cared for her,
or why this glow on his clear-cut face, or why this light in his
speaking eyes now bent upon her. Mell turned her head quickly.

"I can't understand why you don't like Devonhough," Rube remarked,
noticing the movement. "I think it odd. He carries things with a high
hand among the girls, I can tell you. Most all of 'em are dead in love
with him."

"And do you wish me added to the list?" interrogated Mell, finding
herself in a tight place, and hardly knowing how to get out of it.

"Well, no; I don