"Stop!" replied Lawrence Newt, in a tone so imperious that the hand of his companion fell at her side, and the scorn and suspicion faded from her eyes. "Mrs. Simcoe, there are things that even you must not say. You have lived alone with a great sorrow; you are too swift; you are unjust. Even if I had known what you ask about Miss Hope, I am not sure that I should have done differently. Certainly, while I did not know--while, at most, I could only suspect, I could do nothing else. I have feared rather than believed--nor that, until very lately. Would it have been kind, or wise, or right to have staid away altogether, when, as you know, I constantly meet her at our little Club? Was I to say, 'Miss Hope, I see you love me, but I do not love you?' And what right had I to hint the same thing by my actions, at the cost of utter misapprehension and pain to her? Mrs. Simcoe, I do love Hope Wayne too tenderly, and respect her too truly, not to try to protect her against the sting of her own womanly pride. And so I have not staid away. I have not avoided a woman in whom I must always have so deep and peculiar an interest, I have been friend and almost father, and never by a whisper even, by a look, by a possible hint, have I implied any thing more." His voice trembled as he spoke. He had no right to be silent any longer, and as he finished Mrs. Simcoe took his hand. "Forgive me! I love her so dearly--and I too am a woman." She sank upon the sofa as she spoke, and covered her face for a little while. The tears stole quietly down her cheeks. Lawrence Newt stood by her sadly, for his mind was deeply perplexed. They both remained for some time without speaking, until Mrs. Simcoe asked, "What can we do?" Lawrence Newt shook his head doubtfully. They were silent again. At length Mrs. Simcoe said: "I will do it." "What?" asked Lawrence. "What I have been meaning to do for a long, long time," replied the other. "I will tell her the story." An indefinable expression settled upon Lawrence Newt's face as she spoke. "Has she never asked?" he inquired. "Often; but I have always avoided telling." "It had better be done. It is the only way. But I hoped it would never be necessary. God bless us all!" He moved toward the door when he had finished, but not until he had shaken her warmly by the hand. "You will come as before?" she said. "Of course, there will not be the slightest change on my part. And, Mrs. Simcoe, remember that next week, certainly, I shall meet Miss Hope at Miss Amy Waring's. Our first meeting had better be there, so before then please--" He bowed and went out. As he passed the library door he involuntarily looked in. There sat Hope Wayne, reading; but as she heard him she raised the head of golden hair, the dewy cheeks, the thoughtful brow, and as she bowed to him the clear blue eyes smiled the words her tongue uttered-- "Good-by, Mr. Newt, good-by!"