Left to herself, the girl walked back and forth in front of the fire, seeming to catch her breath in convulsive little sobs. She was so near the couch that Mrs. Dunlap could have put out her hand and touched her. When that good woman saw a pair of small hands clenched and heard a low moan, she came suddenly to a sitting posture and in a moment more was speaking in a low tone. "Will you forgive me, dear? I am the mother of a precious girl who was about your age when God called her home. And I miss her so! I cannot help seeing that you are in trouble. May I not play mother to you for a little while and try to comfort you?" But the girl's face at that moment expressed such abject terror, that she made haste to add: "There is nothing to be frightened over, dear; this is a quiet, entirely respectable house, and your husband will be back in a few moments." It was the probing word that this student of human nature had resolved should open her way, and it succeeded. "He is not my husband!" the girl exclaimed. "Not yet," she added quickly. "We were to have been married as soon as the train reached our destination; but the train was delayed; we could not go on; and there were no rooms to be had without this awful waiting! I wish now that we had not—" She stopped abruptly, then began again. "I know I must appear very silly indeed to a stranger. But I cannot seem to help it. And I cannot explain, either, why it should suddenly seem so perfectly dreadful to me, but it does! I am so used to traveling with my mother; I cannot get away from the thought of how perfectly awful it would seem to her if she knew that I—" The tremulous voice stopped again; and at that moment Mrs. Dunlap felt that she could almost enjoy shooting the man who had deliberately planned such a state of things for this frightened child. She passed a protecting arm about the trembling form and spoke low and tenderly. "My child, will you trust me and tell me all about it? You remind me of my own dear daughter; I am sure that you have a precious mother. Does she know that you expected to be married to-night?" "No, oh, no! She doesn't dream of such a thing! We couldn't tell her because she—she is prejudiced against Mr. Keller; he has enemies, we think, who are trying to injure him because he is a more successful man than they are, and she—Why, she wasn't even willing to have me walk out with him, alone! But I thought—I mean I think that when we are married, and everything is settled forever, we shall be able to make her understand. It really isn't as though I were a child; I am of age." At this, the child-woman drew herself up with such a pitiful attempt at womanhood that Mrs. Dunlap, under happier circumstances, felt sure she would have asked how many hours it was since the child had attained to that dignity! The tremulous voice continued: