them; but that, after all, was a minor trouble. He would be separated
from Sylvia until his work should be done.

"What a beautiful night!" she said at length. Summoning his
resolution, he turned and looked at her. She stood with one hand
resting on the gate, slender, graceful, and wonderfully attractive, the
black dress emphasizing the pure whiteness of her face and hands.
Sylvia was an artist where dress was concerned, and she had made the
most of her somber garb. As he looked at her a strong temptation shook
the man. He might still discover some excuse for remaining to watch
over Sylvia, and seize each opportunity for gaining her esteem. Then
he remembered that this would entail the sacrifice of her property; and
a faint distrust of her, which he had hitherto refused to admit, seized
him. Sylvia, threatened by poverty, might yield without affection to
the opportunities of a suitor who would bid high enough for her hand;
and he would not have such a course forced upon her, even if he were
the one to profit.

"You're very quiet; you must feel going away," she said.

"Yes," George admitted; "I feel it a good deal."

"Ah! I don't know anybody else who would have gone--I feel selfish and
shabby in letting you."

"I don't think you could stop me."

"I haven't tried. I suppose I'm a coward, but until you promised to
look after matters, I was afraid of the future. I have friends, but
the tinge of contempt which would creep into their pity would be hard