"Don't you care for me, dear?" asked Orde very gently.

"I have no right to tell you that," answered she. "I have tried,
oh, so hard, to keep you from saying this, for I knew I had no right
to hear you."

Orde's heart leaped with a wild exultation.

"You do care for me!" he cried.

They had mounted the steps and stood just within the vestibule.
Orde drew her toward him, but she repulsed him gently.

"No," she shook her head. "Please be very good to me. I'm very
weak."

"Carroll!" cried Orde. "Tell me that you love me! Tell me that
you'll marry me!"

"It would kill mother if I should leave her," she said sadly.

"But you must marry me," pleaded Orde. "We are made for each other.
God meant us for each other."

"It would have to be after a great many years," she said doubtfully.

She pulled the bell, which jangled faintly in the depths of the
house.