Roger hesitated. It seemed odd to be making this sacred confidence to a stranger; but with this matter of Mrs. Middleton’s little arrangement between them, she was hardly a stranger. If he had offended her, too, the part of gallantry was to admit everything. “Yes, I am in love!” he said. “And with the young lady you so much resemble. She doesn’t know it. Only one or two persons know it, save yourself. It is the secret of my life, Miss Sands. She is abroad. I have wished to do what I could for her. It is an odd sort of position, you know. I have brought her up with the view of making her my wife, but I have never breathed a word of it to her. She must choose for herself. My hope is that she will choose me. But Heaven knows what turn she may take, what may happen to her over there in Rome. I hope for the best; but I think of little else. Meanwhile I go about with a sober face, and eat and sleep and talk, like the rest of the world; but all the while I am counting the hours. Really, I don’t know what has set me going in this way. I don’t suppose you will at all understand my situation; but you are evidently so good that I feel as if I might count on your sympathy.” Miss Sands listened with her eyes bent downward, and with great gravity. When he had spoken, she gave him her hand with a certain passionate abruptness. “You have my sympathy!” she said. “Much good may it do you! I know nothing of your friend, but it is hard to fancy her disappointing you. I perhaps don’t altogether enter into your situation. It is novel, but it is extremely interesting. I hope before rejecting you she will think twice. I don’t bestow my esteem at random, but you have it, Mr. Lawrence, absolutely.” And with these words she rose. At the same moment their hostess suspended her siesta, and the conversation became general. It can hardly be said, however, to have prospered. Miss Sands talked with a certain gracious zeal which was not unallied, I imagine, to a desire to efface the trace of that superb blush I have attempted to chronicle. Roger brooded and wondered; and Mrs. Middleton, fancying that things were not going well, expressed her displeasure by abusing every one who was mentioned. She took heart again for the moment when, on the young lady’s carriage being announced, the latter, turning in farewell to Roger, asked him if he ever came to New York. “When you are next there,” she said, “you must make a point of coming to see me. You will have something to tell me.”