"I don’t know what you want—I don’t believe you know yourself—I don’t believe you realize what you’re doing—you’re too young to know. You’re throwing away a rare, pure love, Indiana, as though it were a soiled ribbon. I’m not a man of the world, but I know what that means in life—you don’t. It’s all that counts in the long run. I don’t say another man couldn’t love you, but no one will ever love you better—remember that, won’t you? And that mine is not a love which has sprung up suddenly—it has taken deep roots in my life." "It’s horrible to think I could hurt anyone like that," repeated Indiana, mechanically, looking at the scar on his forehead. "That’s the least. Think of the wound here," he repeated. "You could heal it, Indiana." He opened his arms. He might have won her by his very insistence, if it were not that the idea of another—a different life from what she had known—had shed its glamour upon her, the glamour of the new and strange. She would not trust herself to look at his dark, quivering face, but turned away and mounted the stairs, slowly, to her room, seeing him very clearly as she went, standing with his arms extended. Later, Mrs. Stillwater found Glen sitting alone on the balcony, looking vacantly on the lake. He did not notice her, until she went up to him, putting her arm about his neck. "What’s the matter, Glen?" "Indy won’t have me—" "You’ve asked her, then?" Glen nodded. "I’m so sorry, so sorry." She smoothed his hair gently. "I’ve always hoped it would be—some day." "I haven’t given—up—hope—yet," he said, doggedly. She kept smoothing his hair, until Lord Canning joined them. Then Glen rose abruptly and went up to his room. "Our young hero seems depressed," said Lord Canning, quietly. "It’s about Indiana," replied Mrs. Stillwater, very much distressed. "He’s a fine fellow, but, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, Mrs. Stillwater, he’s not the right husband for your daughter." "He understands her better than a stranger would. He’d get along with her, I’m sure." "Is it so difficult to get along with her?" enquired Lord Canning. "Oh, I didn’t mean that," replied Mrs. Stillwater, quickly. "There’s no one more lovable and easy, if she’s studied." "What do you think of me as a husband for your daughter?" said Lord Canning, quietly. "Lord Canning, you’re not in earnest?" "Why not? I should like to take my place in the matrimonial competition, if you have no objection." She looked at him, standing there with such apparent composure. "What objection could I have to a man like you? But, I’m not the one to be consulted. Whatever Indy decides, I must be satisfied with. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" "Mrs. Stillwater, the idea is evidently disagreeable to you?" "Oh no, not at all. But Indiana’s so young, and you live so far away—and she is so unfit to be alone—without us. But don’t consider me—I have nothing whatever to say."