er
a great deal. How you see how frank I am, and what a compliment I pay
to your masculine superiority."

"Miss Wildmere, I think I understand you; I hope I do. Your manner of
greeting me on my return from long absence proved that you were not
disloyal to one old friend. If you could keep me in mind for years, I
can hope I am not forgotten during the hours when others have claims
upon you. I have ever kept you in mind, and I might say more. If women
have a little natural spite, men in some situations are endowed with
enormous selfishness, and the bump of appropriation grows almost into
a deformity."

"I never expect to see deformities of any kind in Graydon Muir," she
said, laughing. "Now that we understand each other so well, give me
your hand and pull me up this steep place before which we have stood
so long, while getting over another little steep place that lay in our
path. I'm glad the others have all gone on, for now you can help me
all you choose, and I shan't care."

He did help her, with a touch and freedom that grew into something
like caresses. He felt that he had revealed himself almost as
completely as if he had spoken his love, and that he had received and
was receiving more than encouragement. She did not rebuke his manner,
which was that of a lover. There was no committal in that, nothing
that could bind her. She permitted the avowal of his hope, that he
had been in her thoughts during his long absence, and the natural
inference that her hand was still free because of his hold upon her
heart. This belief filled him with gratitude, and inspired him, as she
intended it should, with generous thoughts and impulses toward her.
What if she did prefer to maintain a little longer the delicate half
reserve that precedes a positive engagement? It only insured that the
cup of happiness should be sipped and enjoyed more leisurely. She had
seen too much of life, and enjoyed too many of its pleasures, to act
with precipitation now. She understood him, and yet loved him well
enough to be jealous of one whom she believed that he regarded as a
sister. With amusement he thought: "She is not even that to me now.
Hanged if I know what she is to me beyond a pretty, vexatious puzzle!"

Miss Wildmere's strategy had accomplished one thing, however.
Believing that he was absolved by Madge's course from everything
beyond cordial politeness, he had resolved to carry out her rival's
wishes. It was no great cross to forego Madg