Something in his tone--an indefinable drawing-back--caused her to cry out with urgency. "Listen! Had I guessed--had I had the least idea that you were going to say--what you said to me just now, I would have stopped you. Let us pretend that you did not say it! We are as we were this morning--you my kindest friend, I your most devoted child. Now listen. I am engaged already. I have been secretly engaged ever since I--almost ever since I first came into your house." He was so surprised that for a few moments he sat quite still, while a dull brick-red surged up under his fair skin. Rona lowered before him the proud head she had always carried so high. At last he brought out: "Engaged! To whom?" "To the young man who called himself my brother--to David Smith." There was silence. Denzil took in and digested this new view of the girl at his side. He had thought her every idea and tendency known to him. He had believed that he himself had formed her tastes and decided her bent. And now he was faced by the awful thought that in her tender girlhood another man had kissed her--held her in his arms.... He remembered the conditions under which she had been found--on board a canal barge--with this wild youth who was not her brother! A horrible despondency assailed him, darkening the face of the fair landscape. All that he said was: "I could not have believed it of you, Rona." She winced, but maintained her composure. For long had she dreaded this moment. It was almost with relief that she found herself living through it. In all her forecastings of the scene, she had pictured herself as making her avowal to Miss Rawson also. Denzil alone was unquestionably easier to deal with. She continued her confession. "I have had a letter from him--to-day!" "Indeed!" Denzil's voice sounded as though dashed with ice. Its coldness was ominous, and stung her. "Listen!" she urged. "If you turn from me, what is to become of me? You are the only person in all the world who cares--except him! You are the only person who could advise me, who could help--who could--could--save me from him." There was a moment's tense silence; then he said, in a softer tone, "So you do not--love this--er--this young man to whom you are plighted?" She shook her head. "I was a child, you know," she faltered. "And I--I hardly knew him. But, you see, he had saved my life. He had saved me from--worse than death, I think. I was very grateful to him." She mused for a moment, and then timidly asked, "Will you read his letter?" Denzil was not a great-minded man, nor a clever man, but he had his code of honor. "Are you pledged to secrecy?" he asked. "I gather that this young man has claims upon your gratitude, if not your affection. Ought you to show me his letter?" His integrity made her admire him afresh.