Esther’s hours of sleep that night were few indeed. She was happy one moment and miserable the next. Bob loved her--he told her so. And she loved him, she was sure of it now. But did they love each other enough? Were they sufficiently certain of that love to go on to face its inevitable consequences, regardless of what those consequences must mean to themselves and to others? For if they were not, both of them, absolutely sure, those consequences were too tremendous to be faced. Her uncle had permitted friendship between Elisha Cook’s grandson and herself--the fact of his doing so was still an unexplainable mystery to her--but she was certain that he would never consent to their marriage. And Bob’s grandfather would be equally resolute in his opposition. It was one thing to say, as Bob had said, that the family feud had no part in their lives. It had. She loved her uncle dearly and she knew that he idolized her. She owed him a debt of gratitude beyond the limits of measure. Only one reason could ever be strong enough to warrant her risking the end of their affectionate association and the repudiation of that debt. If she were certain that she loved Bob Griffin--really loved him and would always love him--then nothing else mattered. Except, of course, the same certainty of his enduring love for her. But were they certain? They had known each other such a short time. And there were other considerations. Her future with her beloved music, the career she had dreamed. She had no money of her own. Bob had some, but not a great deal. He was almost as dependent upon his grandfather as she was upon Foster Townsend. Might not his chances for fame and success as an artist be wrecked if he married her? She must think of that, too. There was so much to think of. She thought and thought, but morning brought no definite conclusion except one, which was that she must continue to think and, meanwhile, there must be no plighted troth, no engagement, no definite promise of any kind between them. She would tell Bob that when they next met. If he really loved her he would understand and be willing to wait, as she would wait, and see. She came downstairs early and found that her uncle was an even earlier riser. He had gone out to the stable, so Nabby said, but would, of course, come in to breakfast when called. And he had already told Mrs. Gifford of Esther’s coming trip abroad. Nabby was excited and even more voluble than usual.