When she had drained the glass, he added, kindly: “My carriage is here; permit me to take you to your destination.” Floy knew that it was not safe to trust strangers usually; but the voice and face of this one were so noble they inspired instant confidence, so she answered, gratefully: “I will thank you very much,” and, with a grateful smile at the woman, she followed him to the carriage, saying: “I was on my way to the station, to go away; but I feel so shaken that I had better postpone my trip till to-morrow;” and she named the address of Ruth Bascom, with whom she had been staying while she rallied her courage to return to Mount Vernon. It was a long distance, and a sudden mutual attraction between them made the pair very confidential. “I am so thankful your injuries are so slight. You might have been killed,” he began; and the girl answered, sadly enough: “It would not have mattered much; life is so sad.” “Sad? For one so young, and--pardon me--so lovely?” exclaimed her new friend, in surprise. Floy answered, out of the bitterness of her sad heart: “I am only a poor orphan, sir, with no relatives and but few friends. To such a one life offers little happiness.” “That is true,” assented the nobleman, with keen sympathy; and a great wave of tenderness swept over him for the lovely, hapless child of misfortune. He looked at her simple dress, and guessed that she was poor as well as orphaned. He, too, was almost alone in life; but he was rich, so he had many friends. We can always count our friends when we are rich. She seemed little more than a child to this man of forty years, and he felt as if he would like to draw the golden head against his shoulder and tell her she should be his child, his dear adopted little daughter, if she would, and that poverty and sorrow, those grim twins, should never come near her any more. But he feared to startle her by an abrupt avowal of his benevolent desire, lest he should arouse distrust in her girlish mind, she looked so timid and innocent as she sat there by his side, so he decided not to speak to her abruptly of his wish. CHAPTER XLVIII. A STRANGE ROMANCE. He said, with a long-drawn sigh: “Life is sad to many, my dear little girl, and perhaps I have had as sad an experience as any.” She looked at him with questioning eyes, and, although he was usually very quiet and reserved, after the English nature, the lovely face drew him so strangely to her that he continued: “Suppose we compare notes. I will tell you what a great sorrow I have had in my life, and then you may tell me your story.” Floy did not reply, and he saw her rosy under lip quiver as if she repressed a sob with difficulty. She was thinking with pride and pain: