It was a bitter-sweet message. At times during the week she felt her face burn at the recollection of how disappointed she had felt the previous Sunday eve. "I am a fool to care," she would say to herself, and then when she caught sight of his face and saw the cloud resting upon it she felt puzzled. She had asked regarding his father's illness and learned he was better, so the ominous shadow was not from that source. She felt sure it was not from an impending declaration of love brewing in his heart, for she knew him well enough to feel that when it came to that, he would have the manly courage to express his feelings in his usual outspoken way. When Sunday evening came again she awaited his coming with a new anxiety, and when he arrived her heart felt heavy. He greeted her as though nothing was amiss, and began chatting in an offhand manner, as if to prevent any question from her. He even joked and told stories, but with a seeming effort and not in accord with his feelings. Liddy watched him quietly, feeling sure he was acting a part and for a purpose. The more he tried to dissemble, the deeper became her dread. At last, when the chance came, she said in her direct way: "Charlie, you are not yourself to-night, and I believe you have some serious trouble on your mind. I wish you would tell me what it is." He looked at her a moment before replying, and then said: "Oh, well, perhaps I have; but please don't notice it. I do not like to talk of my troubles here. You will dislike me if I do." "I shall feel hurt if you do not," she answered. "Don't say that!" he replied; and then, after looking into her earnest face a moment he continued in a lower tone: "You are the last person in the world I would knowingly hurt." He remained silent for a long time, looking at the fire in a vacant way, and then rising suddenly he said: "There is no use; I can't talk to-night. I am out of sorts. I think I will go home." "No, no, Charlie," she replied, trying hard to keep the pain out of her voice: "don't go yet! It's too early, and we have not had a visit for two weeks. Please sit down and tell me all about it. Can't you trust me?" He remained standing and looking earnestly into her upturned face and pleading eyes for a few moments in silence; then he said: "Yes, I can trust you, Liddy, and I am not afraid to, either! I am not afraid to trust you with every thought and impulse that ever came to me, but I can't bring myself to hurt you," and then he turned away. His words almost brought the tears to her eyes, but she kept them back. When he had his coat on and was at the door, she made one more effort. She clasped his arm with both hands, as if to hold him, and said: "You have made me very wretched, Charlie! Don't leave me in suspense! I do not deserve it. No matter what it is, please tell me!"