"And Mr. Long--does he understand you?" asked Dick.
"Oh yes--yes; I feel that he does," said the girl. "Mr. Long is so good--so kind--so considerate."
"Oh yes; and you are still ready to do him the injustice of marrying him?" said Dick.
Her face flushed. She looked at him without speaking a word for some moments, then she turned away from him and faced the window, out of which she had been looking pensively.
"Forgive me, dear Betsy, forgive me!" he cried passionately. "Oh, my Betsy, I did not come here to add to the burden which you have to bear; I did not mean to reproach you; only--you know--you know what is in my heart, dear--what has been in my heart all these years! I did not speak. What would have been the good of telling you? You knew it; you knew all that was in my heart!"
"I knew--I knew," she said, and every word sounded like a sob.
He was still holding her hand, but she had not turned to him. He was behind her.
"And I knew that you knew, and that gave me hope," he said. "I had hopes that one day--some day---- Oh, why did my father treat me as he did? Why did he take me from school and bring me here to spend my life in idleness? He would not consent to my learning anything that would be of use to me, that would have enabled me to earn bread for myself. Why could not he have given me at least a chance of doing something--the chances that other boys are given?"
He had flung her hand away from him and had gone passionately to the farther end of the room, his hands clenched.
"What was the good of my hoping--dreaming--longing?" he continued, speaking across the room. "It seemed that every one was to have a chance except myself. But still, that did not prevent my loving you, Betsy--loving you as none of the more fortunate ones could love you. It was the one solace left to me, and you knew it; you knew that I loved you always; you knew----"
"Oh, Dick, Dick, do not be cruel!" she cried. "Let me implore of you. Oh, Dick, let us be to each other to-day as we used to be long ago when we were children together. You remember how frank we used to be to each other, telling each other everything? How could we be otherwise? We had not learned any language but that of frankness. Dear Dick, I know what was in your heart. You hoped, and I, too, hoped and hoped, until my life became unendurable.... Ah, can you blame me because when my chance of freedom came I accepted it? I promised to marry Mr. Long; but listen to me, Dick: I give you my word that if you tell me that I was wrong I will go to him and take back my promise."