'If you tell me what you would like me to do, I'll do it, upon my word,' he said earnestly. 'Oh, I have no right to do that, but since you ask, I will say that you have not very far to seek your opportunities. Your Uncle Tom told me the other day you employed nearly seven hundred men and women at your mills. If that is not a field for you to work in, I don't know what is.' George Fordyce bit his lip ever so slightly, and half turned away. This was bringing it home indeed, and the vision of himself taking up a new _rôle_ among his own workpeople rather disconcerted him. 'Now you are offended,' said Gladys quickly; 'and, please, it is not my fault. You asked me what you should do.' 'Offended with you! No such thing. You could never offend me. Can't you see, Gladys, that the very reason I would be better is _you_, and you alone. I want to please you, because I want to win you.' There was no doubt at all about his meaning now. The passion with which he spoke brought a blush to the girl's cheek, and she rose hurriedly from her chair. 'Oh, you must not say such things to me, please.' 'Why not? Every man has the right to speak when he loves a woman as I love you. Could not you care for me, Gladys? I know I am not half good, but I'll try to be better for your sake.' 'I have liked you very well. I do like you,' she answered, with a trembling frankness,--'only, I think, not quite in that way.' 'If you like me at all, I shall not despair. It will come in time. Give me the hope that you'll try to think of me in that way,' he pleaded passionately; and Gladys slightly shook her head. 'Try?' she repeated. 'I do not know much, but it seems to me that that should be without trying.' 'But you need not give me a final answer now. Let me wait and try to win you--to be more worthy of you. I know I am not that yet, but you know we've got on awfully well together--been such chums--I'm sure it would all come right.' He looked very handsome and very winning, pleading his cause with an earnestness which left no doubt of his sincerity. Gladys allowed him to take her hand, and did not draw herself away. 'If you will let me alone a long time--a year, at least--and never speak of it, I will give you an answer then. It is a very serious thing, and one must be quite sure,' she said slowly; and that answer was more than George Fordyce had dared to hope for. There was more deliberation and calmness in her disposal of the question than would have satisfied most men, but he had fared better than he expected, and left the house content. As for Gladys, she felt restless and unhappy, she did not know why; only she knew that never had her thoughts reverted with such lingering persistence to the past, never had its memories seemed more fraught with sweetness and with pain. She was an enigma, she could not understand herself. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI. UNDER DISCUSSION.