Sally got red and did not seem pleased. "Go on," she said. "Charlie got your father's tastes and your mother's lack of strength. He seems to have no sense of right. He was most unfortunate. He didn't get a square deal. But his very weakness gives me hope. He will have to be watched, for he may break away at any time. There was no leading your father, even in the way he wanted to go. He had to be under strong compulsion--driven." "Did you ever drive him, Fox?" "Once," he answered briefly. "It was no fun." "I remember the time." She sighed and rose slowly. "Well--" Fox rose also. "Had enough of my preaching, Sally? I don't do it often and I don't wonder you don't like it." She smiled at him gravely and gave him her hand. "I'm greatly obliged to you, Fox. If you can help me I will ask you to. I promise you that." He held her hand much longer than was at all necessary and he gazed down at her with a longing which he could not hide. Not that he tried; but she was not looking at him. "Promise me something else, Sally." Sally glanced up at him in surprise at his voice. "Anything that I can do, of course," she said. The look in his eyes was very tender--and pitying, Sally thought. "Marry me, Sally. Promise me that." It was sudden and unexpected, to be sure, but was there any reason why the quick tears should have rushed to Sally's eyes and why she should have looked so reproachfully at him? Ah, Doctor Sanderson, you have made a mess of it now! Sally withdrew her hand quickly. "Oh, Fox!" she cried low, her eyes brimming. "How could you? How could you?" He had hurt her somehow. God knew that he had not meant to. "Why, Sally," he began, "I only wanted--" "That's just it," she said quickly; and she could say no more and she bit her lip and turned and hurried out, leaving Fox utterly bewildered and gazing after her as if he were paralyzed. Sally almost ran down the walk and, as she ran, she gave one sob. "He was only sorry for me," she said to herself; "he only pitied me, and I won't be pitied. He only wanted--to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox!" she thought, with a revulsion of feeling. "He is always so--wanting to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox! But he _shall_ be true--to her," she added fiercely. "Does he think I will help him to be untrue? Oh, Fox, dear!" And, biting her lip again, cruelly, she got into the waiting carriage. CHAPTER XXII