ed again on all his features. Without
speaking, he drew his chair close to the hearth, and looked steadfastly
into the fire. Some minutes passed in silence. Mercy felt the tears coming
again into her eyes. What was this intangible but inexorable thing which
stood between this man's soul and hers? She could not doubt that he loved
her; she knew that her whole soul went out towards him with a love of
which she had never before had even a conception. It seemed to her that
the words he had spoken and she had received had already wrought a bond
between them which nothing could hinder or harm. Why should they sit thus
silent by each other's side to-night, when so few hours ago they were full
of joy and gladness? Was it the future or the past which laid this seal on
Stephen's lips? Mercy was not wont to be helpless or inert. She saw
clearly, acted quickly always; but here she was powerless, because she was
in the dark. She could not even grope her way in this mystery. At last
Stephen spoke.

"Mercy," he said, "perhaps you are already sorry that I care so much for
you. You said yesterday you never would be."

"Oh, no, indeed! I am not," said Mercy. "I am very glad you care so much
for me."

"Perhaps you have discovered that you do not care so much for me as you
yesterday thought you did."

"Oh, no, no!" replied poor Mercy, in a low tone.

Again Stephen was silent for a long time. Then he said,--

"Ever since I can remember, I have longed for a perfect and absorbing
friendship. The peculiar relations of my life have prevented my even
hoping for it. My father's and my mother's friends never could be my
friends. I have lived the loneliest life a mortal man ever lived. Until I
saw you, Mercy, I had never even looked on the face of a woman whom it
seemed possible to me that any man could love. Perhaps, when I tell you
that, you can imagine what it was to me to look on the face of a woman
whom it seems to me no man could help loving. I suppose many men have
loved you, Mercy, and many more men will. I do not think any man has ever
felt for you, or ever will feel for you, as I feel. My love for you
includes every love the heart can know,--the love of father, brother,
friend, lover. Young as I am, you seem to me like my child, to be taken
care of; and you seem like my sister, to be trusted and loved; and like my
friend, to be leaned upon. You see what my life is. You see the burden
which I must carry, and which none can share. Do