"From a mistaken sense of honour and duty, he will not tell you so now. It may be years before he does."
"Why?"
"He knows you have some money, Lizzie—it may not be much, but you have something. He has nothing. The little we had was lost, you know———"
"Dear Hatty, what can I do?"
"Do? Ah! you have already done too much, dear! That is half the trouble. But—but—say that you care for him! Only tell me that, dear!—only say that you will wait till he can put by a little money—and then———"
She stopped short, panting. But her eyes watched the struggle that was shown in the dark tender face that bent over her, for full a minute, before the girl said, huskily—
"If he does not speak now, Hatty, he will not by-and-by."
"You doubt him? You think he will change?"
"No; but the pride that keeps him silent now, will keep him doubly silent then. He knows me as a girl, trying to become an artist, and with a little money. Therefore he will not ask me to marry him. Dear Hatty, if he knew the truth——— I will tell you the truth, and you shall judge. I am a rich woman. It could not be concealed from him much longer. My wealth has brought me nothing but misery—misery and shame. Therefore I fled from it. I wanted to live among people who didn't know I was rich, where I should not be surrounded by falsehood and deception. My reward has been to find you—and him. Yes, dear, I confess it!—in this solemn hour I may confess it to you, for I say it as I would on
