His face suddenly became grave and even tender in its expression, as he said, in a low, deep voice, "More than once, Miss Ida. Don't think I forget or forgive myself because you treat me so generously." She would not look up and meet his eyes, but replied, in tones that trembled with repressed feeling, "I could forgive anything after your manner towards father this morning. Never think I can forget such favors," and then she snatched away her hand and went swiftly out. Her tears fell fast as she sought her home by quiet streets with bowed head and vail drawn tightly down, and she murmured: "I cannot give him up--I cannot, indeed, I cannot. If I lose him it must be because there is no help for it." Then conscience uttered its low, faint protest and her tears fell faster still. When reaching her room she threw herself on the sofa and sobbed, "Would it be so very, very wrong to win him if I could? she can't love him as much as I do. Why, I was ready to die even to win his respect, and now in these visits he gives me a chance to win his love. Is he pledged to Miss Burton yet? If he is, I do not know it. He does seem to care for me--there is often something in his face and tone that whispers hope. If he loves her as I love him he could not be here in New York all this week. But it's her love that troubles me--I've seen it in her eyes when he was not observing, and I fear she just worships him. Alas, he gave her reason. His manner has been that of a lover, and no one--he least of all--would think of flirting with Jennie Burton. But does he lover her so deeply that I could not win him if I had a chance? Would it be very wicked if I did? Must I give up my happiness for her happiness? I came to New York to get away from danger and temptation and here I am right in the midst of it. What shall I do! Oh, my Saviour, I'm half afraid to speak to thee about this."