“Oh,” interposed the doctor, starting back before the beauty of her face, “don’t tell me that a woman’s heart can, like a man’s, be the secret sepulchre of a living passion for fifteen years. I could not bear to know that! The struggle which I waged fourteen years ago I have not strength to wage now. No! no! woman of my dreams, of my heart’s dearest emotion, loved once, loved now, loved always! tell me anything but _that_,—tell me even that you hate me.” Her eyes, which had fallen before his, swam suddenly with tears and she started as if for protection toward the door. “Oh, I must go,” she cried. “Clarke is waiting; it is not wise; it is not seemly for me to be here.” But the doctor, into whom a fiery glow had entered, was beside her before she could reach the threshold. “No, no,” he pleaded, “not till you have uttered one word, one whisper of the old story; one assurance—Ah, now I am entreating for the very thing, the existence of which, I deprecated a few minutes ago! It shows how unbalanced I am. Yes, yes, you can go; but, Grace, if you have ever doubted that I loved you, listen to this one confession. Ever since the day we parted, necessarily parted, fourteen years ago, I have never let a week go by till these last few ones during which I have been away from Hamilton, that I have not given up two nights a week to thinking of you and watching you.” “Watching me!” “Twice a week for fourteen years have I sat for an hour in Mrs. Fanning’s west window that overlooks your gardens. Thence, unnoted by everybody, I have noted you, if by happy chance you walked in the garden; and if you did not, noted the house that held you and the man who sheltered your youth.” “Oswald,”—she felt impelled to speak, “if—if you loved me like this, why did you send me that cruel letter two days after our engagement? Why did you bid me forget you and marry some one else, if you had not forgotten me and did not wish me to release you in order that you might satisfy your own wishes in another direction?” “Grace, if I could explain myself now I could have explained myself then. Fate, which is oftenest cruel to the most loving and passionate hearts, has denied me the privilege of marriage, and when I found it out——” “True, you have never married. Cruel, cruel one! Why did you not let me know that you would always live single for my sake; it would have made it possible for me to have lived single for yours.” The doctor with the love of a lifetime burning in his eyes, shook his head at this, and answered: “That would have shown me to be a selfish egotist, and I did not want to be other than generous to you. No, Grace, all was done for the best; and this is for the best, this greeting and this second parting. The love which we have acknowledged to-night will be a help and not a hindrance to us both. But we will meet again, not very soon, for I cannot trust a strength which has yielded so completely at your first smile.”