beginning to hope that in you I had found a friend who would never
shrink away from me. Do not tell me that you will ever become afraid
of me like the others. I could not bear it."

"I shrink! God forbid," he answered, "but tell me why are other
people afraid of you? You mystify me."

"Because I am different--so different from them!"

"I'm quite sure of that," he replied, "else I should never have come
to love you within an hour of meeting you."

She did not smile; she did not even look up at him, but sat gazing at
nothing, with countenance as solemn and imperturbable as that of a
Sphinx.

"How am I ever to understand you, Dorothy, you seem such a riddle?"
said Paul presently.

"You will never understand me," she answered with a sigh, "No one
ever has understood me, and you will be just like the rest!"

"But you will never let me be afraid of you, like the others, will
you?" he exclaimed half in earnest.

"I don't know; others are; why should not you be?"

She was still staring into vacancy, with her hands clasped, and Paul
thought he detected a little, just a little, of the same expression
he had seen in the portrait. He started, and Dorothy saw him.