Simon, I think you're the best and the kindest person
in the world."

Here was an opening. Was she disappointed, or not, that he took so
little advantage of it? "We must all help each other, Nina," said he;
"that's the way to make life easy and to stifle sorrows, if we have
them, of our own."

"_You_ ought never to have a sorrow," she broke in. "_You_, who always
think of others before yourself--you deserve to be so happy. And,
Simon, sometimes I think you're not, and it makes me wretched; and I'd
do anything in the world to please you; anything, if--if it wasn't
_too_ hard a task, you know."

She had been so eager to make her sacrifice and get it over that she
hurried inconsiderately to the brink,--then, like a timid bather,
stopped short, hesitating--the water looked so cold and dark and deep.

The lightest touch from his hand would have plunged her in, overhead.
He would have held it in the fire rather, like the Roman hero, till it
shrivelled into ashes.

"My happiness can never be apart from yours," he said, tenderly and
sadly. "Yet I think I know now that yours is not entirely bound up in
mine. Am I right, Nina?"

"I would do anything in the world for you--anything," she murmured,
taking refuge, as we all do at such times, in vain repetition.

They had reached the drawing-room window, and she turned aside, as if
she meant to go in. He took her hand lightly in his own, and led her
back towards the river. It was very dark, and neither could read the
expression of the other's face.

"I have but one earnest desire in the world," said he, speaking
distinctly, but very low. "It is to see you happily settled in life.
I never had a sister nor a daughter, Nina. You have stood me in the
stead of both; and--and I shall never have a wife."

She knew what he meant. The quiet, sad, yet uncomplaining tone cut
her to the heart. "It's a shame! it's a shame!" she murmured. "Simon,
Simon. Tell me; don't you think me the worst, the most ungrateful, the
most horrible girl in the world?"

He spoke cheerfully now, and even laughed. "Very ungrateful," he
repeated, pressing her hand kindly; "and very detestable, unless
you tell me the truth. Nina, dear Nina, confide in me as if I was
your--well--your grandmother! Will that do? I think there's a somebody
we saw to-day who likes you very much. He's a good fellow, and to be
trusted, I can swear. Don't you think, dear, though you haven't
known him long, that _you_ like _him_ a lit