softly brushed my cheek.

"You have not," she answered, so soft and low I could barely catch the
words. "I appreciate your motive, and shall always respect and honor
you." She paused a moment, then added quickly, as though in sudden rush
of feeling: "No friend stands higher in my esteem than you--now please
go, Captain Wayne."

As I crept back through the darkness, passing beneath the piano into
the front room, which was filled with the choking fumes of powder, my
mind was a chaos of emotions impossible to analyze. The touch of her
soft hand was yet warm upon me, and her manner as well as her words
caused my blood to leap riotously in my veins. What did this woman
mean? Was it possible she loved me, and was fighting, even as I, to
conquer a passion that could never be realized? which had no right to
exist? Surely, young and fair as she was, she could be no vain and
shallow coquette, venturing upon flirtation for the mere excitement of
it? The calm self-possession of her nature, her marked pride and
strength of character, stamped this as impossible. Honesty and pure,
true womanhood were woven into her every word and act; that indefinable
something which all men feel and respect was about her like an
atmosphere; to doubt her for an instant was beyond my power. Yet she
had made me feel I was more to her than a mere friend. I longed to go
back, to pour forth those words I had struggled so hard not to speak,
to urge the high law of mutual love as final arbiter of our destiny--
but no! I simply could not. Honor chained me, and the depth of my
respect would never permit of her humiliation. If she had become weak,
all the more reason why I should remain strong. The very depth of love
which drew me to her operated now in restraint. God alone knows the
struggle in the darkness as I continued to move slowly away from her