“It isn't for myself that I should be proud with other people. But I would rather die than bring ridicule upon one I--upon you.” “I can believe that,” said Staniford, devoutly, and patiently reverencing the delay of her scruples. “And if--and--” Her lips trembled, but she steadied her trembling voice. “If they laughed at you, and thought of me in a slighting way because--” Staniford gave a sort of roar of grief and pain to know how her heart must have been wrung before she could come to this. “You were all so good that you didn't let me think there was anything strange about it--” “Oh, good heavens! We only did what it was our precious and sacred privilege to do! We were all of one mind about it from the first. But don't torture yourself about it, my darling. It's over now; it's past--no, it's present, and it will always be, forever, the dearest and best thing in life Lydia, do you believe that I love you?” “Oh, I must!” “And don't you believe that I'm telling you the truth when I say that I wouldn't, for all the world can give or take, change anything that's been?” “Yes, I do believe you. Oh, I haven't said at all what I wanted to say! There was a great deal that I ought to say. I can't seem to recollect it.” He smiled to see her grieving at this recreance of her memory to her conscience. “Well, you shall have a whole lifetime to recall it in.” “No, I must try to speak now. And you must tell me the truth now,--no matter what it costs either of us.” She laid her hands upon his extended arms, and grasped them intensely. “There's something else. I want to ask you what _you_ thought when you found me alone on that ship with all of you.” If she had stopped at this point, Staniford's cause might have been lost, but she went on: “I want to know whether you were ever ashamed of me, or despised me for it; whether you ever felt that because I was helpless and friendless there, you had the right to think less of me than if you had first met me here in this house.” It was still a terrible question, but it offered a loop-hole of escape, which Staniford was swift to seize. Let those who will justify the answer with which he smiled into her solemn eyes: “I will leave you to say.” A generous uncandor like this goes as far with a magnanimous and serious-hearted woman as perhaps anything else. “Oh, I knew it, I knew it!” cried Lydia. And then, as he caught her to him at last, “Oh--oh--are you _sure_ it's right?”