face and the gentle reproach implied in her words.

"I--I have been ill," he said hesitatingly. "Miss Millie," he added
impulsively, "you can never know how deeply I feel for you."

She lifted her eyes questioningly to his face, and its expression
was again unmistakable. For a moment she lost control of her
overburdened heart, and bowing her face in her hands gave way to
the strong tide of her feelings. "Oh!" she sobbed, "I have been
so anxious and fearful about the future. People have come here out
of curiosity, and others have acted as if they did not care what
became of us, if they only obtained the money we owed them. I did
not think that those who were so smiling and friendly a short time
since could be so harsh and indifferent. A thousand times I have
thought of that poor ship that I saw the waves beat to pieces, and
it has seemed as if it might be our fate. I suppose I am morbid,
and that some way will be provided, but SOME way is not A way."

Instead of coming to her side and promising all that his heart
prompted, the miserable constraint of his position led him to turn
from grief that he was no longer able to witness. He went to the
window, and, bowing his head against the sash, looked out into the
darkness.

She regarded him with wonder as she slowly wiped her eyes.

"Mr. Arnold," she faltered, "I hope you will forgive me for my
weakness, and also for inflicting our troubles on you."

He turned and came slowly toward her. She saw that he trembled and