She became very quiet now, and looked steadily into his flushed, eager face with an expression of sorrowful regret and pain that would have restrained him had a ten-fold stronger and more impetuous love been seeking utterance, and by a gesture, simple yet eloquently impressive, she put her finger to her lips. Then giving him her hand she said, with strong emphasis: "Mr. Van Berg, I would value such a FRIEND as you could be to me more than I can tell you." "I shall be to you all that you will permit," he said, gently yet firmly. "As you now appear I could as soon think of urging my clamorous human love on a sad-eyed saint that had suffered some cruel form of martyrdom for her faith, and then, as the legends teach, had been sent from heaven among us mortals upon some errand of mercy." "Your words are truer than you think," she replied, the pallor deepening in her face. "I have suffered a strange, cruel form of martyrdom. But I am not a saint, only a weak woman. I would value such a friend as you could be exceedingly. Indeed--indeed," she continued hesitatingly, "there are peculiar reasons why I wish we might meet as friends occasionally. If you knew--if you knew all--you would not ask to be more. Can you trust one who is clouded by sadness and mystery?" He took her hand in both of his and answered, "Jennie Burton, there could no greater misfortune befall me than to lose my faith in you. I associate you with all that is most sacred to me. Every instinct of my heart assures me that although the mystery that enshrouds your life may be as cold as death, it is, as far as you are concerned, as white as snow." "Yes, and as far as another is concerned also," she said solemnly. "Your trust is generous, and I am very, very grateful. Perhaps--possibly I may--some time--tell you, for you risked your life for me; and--and--there is another reason. But I have never spoken of it yet. Good-night." "Stay," he said, "I cannot begin being a true friend to you by being a false friend to another. I am ashamed that I have been so preoccupied with myself that I have not spoken of it before. Mr. Stanton resented Sibley's insulting language more promptly than I did. I have been basely accepting a gratitude that rightly belongs to him, and I assure you he is in far more danger from Sibley than I am." Her brow contracted in a sudden frown, and there was something like irritation in her tones as she said: