Patience could see that her sister was not unhappy when she came in from her walk,--was not moody,--was not heart-broken. And yet it had seemed to her, before the walk began, while they were sauntering about Mrs. Brownlow's garden, that Ralph had devoted himself entirely to the new cousin, and that Clarissa had been miserable. Surely if he had spoken during the walk,--if he had renewed his protestations of love, if he were now regarded by Clary as her accepted lover, Clary would not keep all this as a secret! It could not be that Clary should have surrendered herself to a lover, and that their father was to be allowed to remain in ignorance that it was so! And yet how could it be otherwise if Clary was happy now,--Clary who had acknowledged that she loved this man, and had now been leaning on his arm for an hour beneath the moonlight? But Patience said not a word. She could not bring herself to speak when speech might pain her sister. When they had been some half hour in bed, there stole a whisper across the darkness of the chamber from one couch to the other; "Patty, are you asleep?" Patience declared that she was wide awake. "Then I'll come to you,"--and Clary's naked feet pattered across the room. "I've just something to say, and I'll say it better here." Patience made glad way for the intruder, and knew that now she would hear it all. "Patty, it is better to wait." "What do you mean, dear?" "I mean this. I think he does like me; I'm almost sure he does." "He said nothing to-night?" "He said a great deal,--of course; but nothing about that;--nothing about that exactly." "Oh, Clary, I'm afraid of him." "What is the good of fear? The evil is, dear, I think he likes me, but it may so well be that he cannot speak out. He is in debt, and all that;--and he must wait." "But that is so terrible. What will you do?" "I will wait too. I have thought about it, and have determined. What's the good of loving a man if one won't go through something for him? I do love him,--with all my heart. I pray God I may never have a husband, if I cannot be his wife." Patience shuddered in her sister's embrace, as these bold words were spoken with energy. "I tell you, Patty, just as I tell myself, because you love me so dearly." "I do love you;--oh, I do love you." "I do not think it can be unmaidenly to tell the truth to you and to myself. How can I help telling it to myself? There it is. I feel that I could kiss the very ground on which he stands. He is my hero, my Paladin, my heart, my soul. I have given myself to him for everything. How can I help myself?" "But, Clary,--you should repress this, not encourage it."