er that you wanted to speak
to me particularly. What is it, Eva?" looking at her very kindly.

"Yes; I have long wanted to speak to you," she returned, dropping her
eyes, and he could see that she was much agitated. "Erle, you must not
misunderstand me; I am finding no fault with you. You are always good
to me--no one could be kinder; but you are not treating me with
perfect frankness."

"What do you mean?" he asked, astonished at this, for no suspicion of
her meaning dawned upon him. "You have no fault to find with me.
Surely want of frankness is a fault?"

"Yes, but I think it is only your thought for me. You are so anxious
that everything should be made smooth and bright for me, that you do
not give me your full confidence, Erle"--pressing closer to him, and
looking up in his face with her clear, loving eyes. "Do you think that
I can love you so and not notice how changed you have been of
late--how pale and care-worn? though you have tried to hide from me
that you were unhappy."

He pulled his mustache nervously, but he could not answer her.

"How often I have watched for you," she continued, "when your poor
uncle's illness has detained you, and have seen you cross the square
with your head bent and such a sad look on your face; and yet, when we
meet, you have nothing for me but pleasant words, as though my
presence had dispelled the cloud."

"And why not, Eva? do you think your bright face would not charm away
any melancholy mood?" But she turned away as though not noticing the
little compliment. He was always making these pretty speeches to her,
but just now they jarred on her. It was truth--his whole
confidence--that she wanted; and no amount of soft words could satisfy
her.

"You are always good to me--always," she went on; "but you do not tell
me all that is in your heart. When no one is speaking to you, I often
see such a tired, harassed look on your face, and yet you will never
tell me what is troubling you, dear; when we come together--when you
make me your wife, will our life be always unclouded; am I to share
none of your cares and perplexities then?"

He was silent; how was he to answer her?

"It would not be a true marriage," she continued, in a low, vehement
tone, "if you did not think me worthy to share your thoughts. Erle,
you are not treating me well; why do you not tell me frankly what
makes you so unlike yourself. Can you look me in the face and tell me
that you are perfectly happy and s