"Why does he take such an interest in me?" she asked. "He saved your life, my dear, and you seem in some sort to belong to him. Besides, he is naturally one of the noblest and best of men. His heart is full of pity for the weak and helpless," said the lady, enthusiastically. There was a moment's silence; then Mrs. Leslie said, kindly: "What do you say, my dear--will you be my little sister, and let me care for you?" "Yes, until I can act for myself," Irene answered, softly, and pressing her girlish lips gratefully upon the lady's small white hand. CHAPTER XIX. Mrs. Leslie smoothed the girl's rippling golden curls tenderly. "And the name?" she said. "Shall you not take Mr. Stuart's advice about that? It will be far--far better." Irene was silent, warm blushes drifting over her fair, young face. "Think," said the gentle lady, "there must surely be some name to which you have a legal right. Is there not, my dear?" Deeper and warmer grew the blush on the fair, girlish face. She had suddenly remembered Guy Kenmore, and the ceremony which Mr. Clavering had declared to be binding upon them. "My name is Mrs. Kenmore," she said to herself, with a strange feeling trembling at her heart as she recalled the handsome man to whom she was bound. Then a flash of pride usurped the thrill of almost unconscious tenderness. "He did not wish for me to be his wife," she said to herself. "I remember he regarded me simply as a spoiled child. I shall not claim his name, shall never trouble him more. He shall think me dead." She looked up gravely at her kind friend. "Mrs. Leslie," she said, "there is no name from out my past that I wish to claim. I have severed myself violently from all that once bound me. I have done no wrong, I have sinned no sin, but I have been terribly wronged and sinned against. It is true I have borne a name in the world where I used to move, but when I found it was not mine I flung it away. I will not be called by it, I will have nothing to remind me of the past. Now tell me what I shall do." Mrs. Leslie was silent a few moments. She wondered who had been so cruel as to wrong this beautiful girl, whose words, whose looks, whose every action was so pure and high-toned. After a moment's reflection she said: "My maiden name was Berlin; will you bear that, Irene?" "You would give your own name to me, an utter stranger?" Irene cried, in grateful surprise. "Yes, because, as I said just now, I have fallen in love with you. Whatever may be the sad secret of your past I can look into your eyes and see that you are pure and good. The name of Berlin is an old and honorable one, but I do not believe you would disgrace it in the bearing," said the sweet lady, heartily. "Then I accept the loan of it with sincerest gratitude," replied Irene, through springing tears.