She looked back through the experience of the last few days. Miss Ladd--Mrs. Ellmother--Doctor Allday: not one of them had felt for her, not one of them had spoken to her, as this man had felt and had spoken. She remembered the dreadful sense of solitude and helplessness which had wrung her heart, in the interval before Mirabel came in. Her father himself could hardly have been kinder to her than this friend of a few weeks only. She looked at him through her tears; she could say nothing that was eloquent, nothing even that was adequate. “You are very good to me,” was her only acknowledgment of all that he had offered. How poor it seemed to be! and yet how much it meant! He rose--saying considerately that he would leave her to recover herself, and would wait to hear if he was wanted. “No,” she said; “I must not let you go. In common gratitude I ought to decide before you leave me, and I do decide to take you into my confidence.” She hesitated; her color rose a little. “I know how unselfishly you offer me your help,” she resumed; “I know you speak to me as a brother might speak to a sister--” He gently interrupted her. “No,” he said; “I can’t honestly claim to do that. And--may I venture to remind you?--you know why.” She started. Her eyes rested on him with a momentary expression of reproach. “Is it quite fair,” she asked, “in my situation, to say that?” “Would it have been quite fair,” he rejoined, “to allow you to deceive yourself? Should I deserve to be taken into your confidence, if I encouraged you to trust me, under false pretenses? Not a word more of those hopes on which the happiness of my life depends shall pass my lips, unless you permit it. In my devotion to your interests, I promise to forget myself. My motives may be misinterpreted; my position may be misunderstood. Ignorant people may take me for that other happier man, who is an object of interest to you--” “Stop, Mr. Mirabel! The person to whom you refer has no such claim on me as you suppose.” “Dare I say how happy I am to hear it? Will you forgive me?” “I will forgive you if you say no more.” Their eyes met. Completely overcome by the new hope that she had inspired, Mirabel was unable to answer her. His sensitive nerves trembled under emotion, like the nerves of a woman; his delicate complexion faded away slowly into whiteness. Emily was alarmed--he seemed to be on the point of fainting. She ran to the window to open it more widely. “Pray don’t trouble yourself,” he said, “I am easily agitated by any sudden sensation--and I am a little overcome at this moment by my own happiness.” “Let me give you a glass of wine.” “Thank you--I don’t need it indeed.” “You really feel better?” “I feel quite well again--and eager to hear how I can serve you.” “It’s a long story, Mr. Mirabel--and a dreadful story.” “Dreadful?”