“I am afraid there must,” and her hand went up to his face with a caressing motion. “Perhaps if I stay and wait I may be able to win papa over to our way of thinking. At any rate, I must strive for peace with him. It will not be so very long, will it, Earle?” “I cannot tell, dear, exactly how long. I may have to be gone six months; I do not think it can possibly take any longer than that to decide my case.” “Six months!” with another sigh and slight quiver of her lips. “I feel that it is best to wait, Earle. I must be patient, and try to do what is right. Papa may be angry with me, but I cannot think he is wholly devoid of affection for me, and he is so alone in the world, he might miss me.” “It shall be just as you wish or say,” Earle replied, but looking disappointed nevertheless. It really seemed to him as if something told him he _must not_ leave her behind. “I would rather come to you with my hands full,” he added; “and Editha, if I am successful in my business abroad, I feel that even your father, with all his prejudice against me, will be proud to give you to me.” “That settles it, then Earle; we shall wait; for it is better to win than to displease him. But I shall miss you; it is hard to let you go,” she said, with a quiver in her voice. “My darling, do you not think it is hard also for me to go away and leave you—particularly as I fear you are not going to be very happy? And, dearest, for fear that something may happen to our letters, in the _same way that there did your flowers_, I will secure a lock-box at the office for you before I go, and send you the key.” “That will be a good plan,” she answered, flushing. It was hard to feel that her father would be guilty of anything so underhanded as to intercept her letters, but she had discovered, by questioning his servant, that he had intercepted and destroyed her flowers, and the distrust now would naturally arise. “Every mail, dear,” Earle went on, “I shall expect to hear from you, and I will write as often to you. Now, my darling, I must say farewell. I shall not have time to come again, as I have much to do, and the steamer sails to-morrow at noon.” “So soon? Can I let you go so soon?” Editha sighed; then, looking up with an effort to smile, she added: “I ought not to murmur, for, of course, the sooner you go the sooner you will return.” “That is my brave little comforter. I could not bear to leave you sorrowing. Now put your hands in mine and tell me once for all that you love me, then I can go quite content,” Earle pleaded; but his lips trembled slightly, nevertheless, as they sought hers in a mute caress, for this parting was not an easy thing for him, strong man though he was. Editha folded her white hands together and laid them upon his palm. “I love you, Earle; I never have loved any one but you; and I shall love only you as long as my life shall last,” she said, solemnly, her grave, sweet eyes lifted with a beautiful trust to his face.