In time these shy looks wrought upon the doctor, and his stern resolution wavered. He found himself sounding her preferences and attachments, with the unconfessed design of extracting some unguarded word that might indicate a change in her old convictions. Carrying on together these two processes--determination to refrain and resolution to pursue, which often accompanies some course of action embraced in accordance with a natural, unworldly judgment, he managed to betray to the eager girl all he wished to conceal and she wished to know. She had telegraphed to Baltimore that she would be there in ten days. Four of them had passed, and she was free from pain and able to put her foot to the ground. The doctor persisted in helping her from her couch to the chair and back again. "But I can walk alone now," she objected. "We must be careful. Not until to-morrow." She protested with greater earnestness. "True--I have but one arm," he said, with the first accent of bitterness she had heard from him. Her lips parted to give utterance to a sudden rush of words, but she only looked at him, with eyes so eloquent that he answered the look. "Margaret, do you care? Dear, I have always loved you, I love you now,--can you care?" She drooped her head on his shoulder, but said nothing. The doctor held her close for a minute, and then, leaving her, began to walk up and down the room. "It is impossible!" "It may be impossible," murmured Margaret with a little blush, "but--it is true." "It is cruel of me to ask it, dear. You are young, beautiful, brilliant--with success at your feet, and I----" She put up her hand imploringly. It was caught and held. "And I am poor, obscure and--old," he finished, his eyes upon her face. "I have come to you, Richard. It seemed strange to me. I cannot explain it, but it seems as if everything the world has to offer me is nothing beside----" "Beside my love?" he bent on one knee beside her chair and put her hand to his lips. "I want to share your life," she said, and a new expression grew upon her face, a high, devoted look which was half heroic, all womanly. "I want to learn something of the great things, the true things." "You have had greater things than I can give you. Think of all you are leaving!" She made a gesture of renunciation. "It does not seem much to leave--for you." "Ah, my darling, I am afraid you will regret it. The work-a-day world will be a trial to you. And mine is a veritable work-a-day world."