ciated face. Its extraordinary melancholy may
have alarmed him. But Pats paid no attention to his dog. He looked at
Elinor who was ironing, at the heavy table--the dining-table--in the
centre of the room. Her sleeves were rolled back to the elbow; her head
bent slightly over as she worked.

The afternoon sun flooded the space in his vicinity and reached far
along the floor, touching the skirt of her dress. Behind her the old
tapestry with the two marble busts formed a stately background. To the
new arrivals she paid no attention.

After a short rest to recover his breath, and his strength, Pats cleared
his throat:

"Miss Marshall, you will never know, for I could not begin to tell
you--how sorry--how, how ashamed I am for having done--what I did. I
don't ask you to forgive me. If you were my sister and another man did
it, I should--" He leaned back, at a loss for words.

"I don't say it was the claret. I don't try to excuse myself in any way.
But one thing I ask you to believe: that I did not realize what I was
doing."

He arose and stood with his hand on the back of the chair. As he went on
his voice grew less steady. "Why, I look upon you as something sacred;
you are so much finer, higher, better than other people. In a way I feel
toward you as toward my mother's memory; and that is a holy thing. I
could as soon insult one as the other. And I realize and shall never
forget all that you have done for me."

In a voice over which he seemed to be losing control, he went on, more
rapidly:

"And it's more than all that--it's more than gratitude and respect. I--"
For an instant he hesitated, then his words came hotly, with a reckless
haste. "I love you as I never thought of loving any human being. It
began when I first saw you on the wharf. You don't know what it means.
Why, I could lay down my life for you--a thousand times--and joyfully."

From Elinor these words met with no outward recognition. She went
quietly on with her ironing.

Pats drew a deep breath, sank into his chair and muttered, in a lower
tone, "I never meant to tell you that. Now I--I--have done it."

During the pause that followed these last words she said, quietly,
without looking up:

"I knew it already."

He straightened up. "Knew what already?"

She lifted a collar she was ironing and examined it, but made no reply.

"You knew what already?" he repeated. "That I was in love with you?"

She nodded, still regarding the collar.

"Impos