“You owe him the justice that every man owes another,” you asserted indignantly. “To make vague charges behind one’s back, and then refuse to be explicit, is a coward’s and a slanderer’s way of waging war.” “Miss Walton,” I cried, “I should not have spoken, though God knows that my motive was only a wish to do you a service, and I would give my life to do as you ask!” For an instant my earnestness seemed to sway you; indeed, I am convinced that this was so, since Mr. Whitely apparently had the same feeling, and spoke as if to neutralize my influence, saying to you: “Miss Walton, I firmly believe that Dr. Hartzmann’s plea of honorable conduct is nothing but the ambush of a coward. But as he has been for two years in the most intimate and confidential position of private secretary to me, he may, through some error, have deluded himself into a conviction that gives a basis for his indefinite charges. I will not take advantage of the implied secrecy, and I say to him in your presence that if he has discovered anything which indicates that I have been either impure or criminal, I give him permission to speak.” Even in that moment of entanglement I could not but admire and marvel at the skill with which he had phrased his speech, so as to seem absolutely open, to slur me by innuendo, and yet avoid the risk of exposure. It left me helpless, and I could only say, “I have not charged Mr. Whitely with either impurity or criminality.” You turned to him and said, “This conduct is perfectly inexplicable.” “Except on one ground,” he replied. “Which is?” you questioned. “That Dr. Hartzmann loves you,” he answered. “That is impossible!” you exclaimed. “Not as impossible as for a man not to love you, Miss Walton,” he averred. “Tell Mr. Whitely how mistaken he is,” you said to me. I could only stand silent, and after waiting a little Mr. Whitely remarked, “You see!” “It is incredible!” you protested. “You must deny it, Dr. Hartzmann!” “I cannot, Miss Walton,” I murmured, with bowed head. “You love me?” you cried incredulously. “I love you,” I assented, and in spite of the circumstances it was happiness to say it to you. You stood gazing at me in amazement, large-eyed as a startled deer. I wonder what your first words would have been to me if Mr. Whitely had not turned your mind into another channel by saying, “I do not think that we need search further for Dr. Hartzmann’s motives in making his innuendoes.” “Miss Walton,” I urged, “my love for you, far from making your faith in me less or my motive that of a rival, should convince you that I spoke only for your sake, since you yourself know that my love has been neither hopeful nor self-seeking.” I think you pitied me, for you answered gently, and all traces of the scorn and indignation you had shown just before were gone from your face and manner.