He wondered what opinion she had formed of him, and he meant to find out before he left her; and after they had chatted awhile he asked, smilingly: “Well, Gladys, what do you think of my double?” “I think it the most remarkable resemblance in the world; but why have you never written us anything about him?” she asked. “I have had so many other things to write and think about, that I suppose it escaped my memory; besides, I seldom meet Mapleson, as he is not in my class. I am very glad, though, that he does not belong in New York,” Geoffrey concluded, with a wistful glance at his companion. “Why?” “Because I fear you might often make the same mistake that you did the other day in the cafe, and—I think I should hardly like to share your favors with him.” Gladys shot a quick, inquiring glance into the young man’s face, and saw it was clouded. “Isn’t he nice, Geoff?” “I have heard that he belongs to a good family, and feel that I have no right to say one word against him; still, where you are concerned, Gladys, I feel very jealous lest any ill should come to you,” he returned, earnestly. “I think I could never again mistake him for you,” Gladys said, thoughtfully. “What makes you think that?” was the eager query. “There are certain expressions in your face that I do not find in his, and _vice versa_; while somehow a feeling of antagonism, a barrier, almost amounting to distrust, comes between us when I am with him. Perhaps it is because I do not know him as well as I know you; it would be natural to differently regard one who had always been like a brother,” Gladys replied, gravely. A painful thrill shot through Geoffrey’s heart at those last words. “Does she feel nothing but sisterly affection for me?” he thought; “and I love her—oh! not with a brother’s love; Heaven help me if I fail to win her by and by! She is dearer than my own life, and yet I dare not tell her so; I have no right to win the heart of the child of my benefactor until I can make a name and position worthy of her acceptance.” But he allowed nothing of this conflict to appear. He changed the subject, and they chatted pleasantly of other matters until Mr. and Mrs. Huntress came to tell him that they were going home. He then bade her good-night and good-by, and went away, loving her more fondly than ever, but with a heavy burden on his heart. CHAPTER XIV. A CONFESSION. There was not much sleep for Geoffrey that night. He lay through the long hours thinking of his love for Gladys, and half believing, yet hardly daring to hope, that she was beginning to return it. Her manner toward him during the evening, her glad, even joyful greeting when he entered Mrs. Loring’s drawing-room, her shy, sweet glances, while talking with him, and the ever ready color which leaped into her cheeks beneath his fond gaze, all thrilled him with the blissful conviction that she was not indifferent to him.