him because she
hated his opinions, his manner of life, his profession--not because she
was jealous of Rosalind Romaine. But Rosalind knew better.

The woman's sympathy affected him so far, however, that, after standing
silent for a minute or two, he laid his hand softly upon her arm. It was
a foolish thing to do, but then Caspar Brooke was never a particularly
wise man, in spite of his goodness of heart and fertility of brain. And
Rosalind felt, by the thrill that ran through her at his touch, that she
had gained more from him than she had ever gained before. What would he
say next?

Well, he did not say very much. "Your sympathy, Rosalind," he said, "is
very pleasant--very dear to me. But you must not give me too much of it.
Sympathy is enervating, as other men have found before me!"

"May I not offer you mine?" she said, plaintively. "It is so hard to be
silent! If only I could make Lesley understand what you are--how
noble--how good----"

Caspar laughed, and took away his hand. "Don't talk to her about me; it
would do no good," he said.

He stood in the firelight, looking so massive, so stern, so resolved,
that Mrs. Romaine lost herself for a moment in admiration of his great
frame and leonine head. And as she paused he spoke again.

"I have not lately observed much hostility to myself in Lesley's
demeanor," he said. "At first, of course--but lately--well, I have been
more struck by a sort of languor, a want of interest and comprehension,
than anything else. No doubt she feels that she is in a new world----"

"Ah yes, a world of intellect and activity to which she has not been
accustomed," said Mrs. Romaine, briskly. Since Caspar had removed his
hand she had been standing erect, watchfully observant of him. It was by
his moods that she intended to regulate her own. "I suppose she has been
accustomed to nothing but softness and self-indulgence; and she does not
understand this larger life to which she now has access."

"Poor child!" said Mr. Brooke.

But this was not at all the remark that Mrs. Romaine wanted him to make.
She tried to beat back the tide of paternal affection that was evidently
setting in.

"She wants rousing I am afraid. She ought not to be allowed to sink into
a dreamy, listless state. It must be very trying for you to see it; you
must be pained by the selfishness and waywardness from which it
proceeds----"

"Do you think it does?" said Mr. Brooke, almost wistfully. "I should be
sorry