"Because--" she stopped; then, breathlessly; "I only want to be let
alone, I came to Old Chester to be alone. I didn't want to thrust
myself on you.--any of you!"

"You never did," he said wonderingly. "You? Why, there never was
anybody so reserved, so--shy, almost. That's one reason I love you, I
guess," he said boyishly.

"You mustn't love me."

"Will you marry me?" he repeated. "Oh, I know; it is like asking an
angel to come down out of heaven--"

"An angel!"

"Mrs. Richie, isn't it possible for you to care, just a little, and
marry me?"

"No, Sam: indeed it isn't. Please don't think of it any more."

"Is it because you love him, still?"

"Love--_him?_" she breathed.

"He is dead," Sam said; "and I thought from something you once said,
that you didn't really love him. But if you do--"

"My--husband, you mean? No! I don't. I never did. That's not the
reason; oh, why did I come here?" she said in a distressed whisper.