a weak girl in the presence of curious strangers. With Victor he
did not mind it, but with her it might be different, and she asked
if it were not so.

"Hardly that, darling; hardly that;" and the sightless eyes
drooped as if heavy with unshed tears. "Edith," and he pressed the
warm hand he held, "ours will be an unnatural alliance. I needed
only to mingle with the world to find it so. People wonder at your
choice--wonder that one so young as you should choose a battered,
blasted tree like me round which to twine the tendrils of your
green, fresh life."

"What have you heard?" Edith asked, half bitterly, for since their
engagement was known at the hotel, she had more than once
suspected the truth of what he said to her. The world did not
approve, but she would not tell Richard that she knew it, and she
asked again what he had heard.

"The ear of the blind is quick," he replied; "and as I sat waiting
in the stage this morning I heard myself denounced as a 'blind old
Hunks,' a selfish dog, who had won the handsomest girl in the
country. Then, as we were descending to this ravine you remember
we stopped at the foot of some stairs while you removed a brier
from your dress, and from a group near by I heard the whispered
words, 'There they come--the old blind man, who bought his ward
with money and gratitude. 'Twas a horrid sacrifice! Look how
beautiful she is!' Darling, I liked to hear you praised, but did
not like the rest. It makes me feel as if I were dragging you to
the altar against your will. And what is worse than all, the
verdict of the people here is the verdict of the world. Edith, you