But could he marry her? He did not dare put the question squarely, for
he dared not confess to himself that he could not give her up. This,
then, was the key to Mrs. Denham's cold rejection of his suit; it
explained, also, Ruth's unwillingness to have him speak to her of his
love. How poignant must have been her anguish that day on Montanvert if
she cared for him! She loved him--how could he doubt it?--but she had
accepted the hopelessness of the position. In his own mind he had
accused her of coquetry in their walk at the cascade of Nant d'Arpenaz.
He saw through it all now; the scales had fallen from his eyes. She was
hiding her misery under a smooth face, as women will. A sudden
reflection sent a chill over Lynde; what if she had recognized him that
first day at dinner in Geneva and had been playing a part all the while!
Then she was the most subtile actress that ever lived, and the leading
lady of the Theatre Francais might indeed go and take lessons of her, as
Flemming had said. The thought gave Lynde a shock. He would not like to
have the woman he loved such an actress as that. Had Ruth revealed
everything to the aunt, and was she too playing a part? In her several
allusions to Dr. Pendegrast Mrs. Denham had called him "the doctor"
simply, or "an old friend of our family," and never once pronounced his
name. "Was that accidental or intentional?" Lynde wondered. "It was
inevitable that he and I should meet sooner or later. Was she
endeavoring to keep the knowledge of Dr. Pendegrast from me as long as
possible? The exigency has unmasked her!"

"Now, Mr. Lynde, I am at your service."

Lynde gave a start, as if the doctor had suddenly dropped down at his
side from out of the sky.

Dr. Pendegrast pushed back his chair and led the way across the