Mrs. Mayfield faced the speaker with a gentle smile of perplexity. “You know, dear, that I firmly believe in love-matches, and if I didn't think you could really love Mr. Peterson I'd never let you think of marrying him; but he really is such a safe, honorable man, and has such brilliant prospects, that I'd not be a natural mother if I were not hopeful that you--” “You mustn't bother with him and me, mother,” Ethel said, weariedly. “I know all his good points, and I know some of his less admirable ones; but I have some rights in the matter. I have really never encouraged him to think I would marry him, and it is because--well, because his recent letters have been just a little too confident that I have not answered. I can't bear that sort of thing from a man, and I want him to know it.” “Well, I'm going to wash my hands of it,” Mrs. Mayfield said, smiling. “I want you to be happy. You have suffered so keenly of late that it has broken my heart to see it, and I want your happiness above all. Then there is something else.” “Oh, something else?” Ethel echoed. “Yes, and this time I am really tempted to scold,” the mother said, quite seriously. “My dear, I am afraid you are going to make more than one man unhappy, and this one certainly deserves a better fate.” Ethel avoided her mother's eyes. Her color deepened. Her proud chin quivered. “What do you mean?” she faltered. “I mean that I am afraid Paul Rundel is in love with you, too.” “Paul--oh, how absurd!” the girl answered, her face burning. “You may say that if you wish, but I shall not change my opinion,” Mrs. Mayfield rejoined, gravely. “I am sure he wouldn't want me to suspect it--in fact, I think he tries to hide it from every one. It is only little signs he shows now and then--the way he looks when your name comes up. The truth is that he can hardly steady his voice when he mentions you. But he will never trouble you with his attentions. He has an idea that there is some understanding between you and Mr. Peterson, and I confess I didn't disabuse his mind. In fact, he said last night, when he and I were out here together, that he would never marry. He has an idea that he ought to remain single so that he may be free to carry out some plans he has for the public good--plans, I think, which mean a sacrifice on his part, in some way or other. He's simply wonderful, my child. He seems to suffer. You know a woman can tell intuitively when a man is that way. He seems both happy and unhappy. I thought I'd speak to you of this so that you may be careful when with him. You can be nice to him, you know, without leading him to think--well, to think as Mr. Peterson does.”