He regarded her with surprise. “Is it possible?” he asked. “I fear, then, that you have not had a very happy life during the last year, or else you are working too hard over your books.” She feared she had betrayed more than she ought. She did not want him to know how hard life had been made for her. She was too proud to complain of the ill-treatment, the coldness, and even dislike which had been her lot, where she had expected to find only kindness, love, and sympathy. “I _have_ been working pretty busily,” she answered, as if that were all. “I am anxious to graduate this year, and I have to apply myself rather closely with my music and other duties.” “Why are you so anxious to graduate this year? Why not take more time, rather than run the risk of injuring your health?” he questioned, gravely. “I am going back to England some time,” she said, her eyes kindling, “and the sooner I can complete my education, the earlier I can go. I have my own future to carve out, Mr. Sherbrooke, and my aim is to prepare myself for a teacher.” “Your own future to carve out!” he cried, greatly surprised. “I thought you had friends here who were to care for you always.” She colored, but answered, gravely: “I should not be content to pass my life here. I shall stay only long enough to complete my education; then I shall go back to my own country to teach.” He understood her; he saw, even though she would not confess it, that her life since coming to America had not been a happy one. He saw now, as he looked down into her face, so fair and beautiful, what he had not noticed before, she had always been so bright and animated when with him. There was a wistful look in her eyes, lines of sadness about her sensitive mouth, that told him of a heart yearning for love and finding only husks to feed upon. She was going to be a teacher, she said; she was bending all her energies in that direction, and was working, he felt assured, far beyond her strength. She did not look fit to fight the battle of life alone; she was slender and delicate, although he felt that, in spite of her fragile appearance, there was an element of strength in her character which would overcome every obstacle which it was possible for a human being in her position to overcome. She had “her future to carve out,” she had told him. What did she intend that future to be?—what were her hopes, her aims, her plans? Surely not to teach _always_. Ah, if she would but learn to love him—if he could win her, it would be very different from the wearying, dragging life of a teacher. Before he was hardly aware of his intention, his heart had overleaped every barrier, he bent toward her and said, in a low, earnest tone: “Star, I love you. Let _me_ depict your future for you.” CHAPTER XV. A FATAL MISTAKE. The beautiful maiden cast one startled glance up at her handsome lover, and then grew colorless as the dress she wore.