more or less business connection; but now I perceive it had a deeper
significance."

"He could scarcely have found a more zealous little advocate for Bertram
if he had hunted the city over. Bertram may be more obliged to you than
he knows. He has been very patient, but the day of his happiness is
approaching."

"And Cicely's! I feel as if I could scarcely wait to see her with this
new hope in her eyes. She has kept me without the door of her suspense,
but she must let me across the threshold of her happiness."

The look with which Mr. Sylvester eyed the fair girl's radiant face
deepened. "Paula," said be, "can you leave these new thoughts for a
moment to hear a request I have to make?"

She at once turned to him with her most self-forgetful smile.

"I have been making myself a little present," pursued he, slowly taking
out of his pocket the single package he had reserved from the rest.
"Open it, dear."

With fingers that unconsciously trembled, she hastily undid the package.
A little box rolled out. Taking off its cover, she took out a plain gold
locket of the style usually worn by gentlemen on their watch-chains.
"Fasten it on for me," said he.

Wondering at his tone which was almost solemn, she quietly did his
bidding. But when she essayed to lift her head upon the completion of
her task, he gently laid his hand upon her brow and so stood for a
moment without a word.

"What is it?" she asked, with a sudden indrawing of her breath. "What
moves you so, Mr. Sylvester?"

"I have just taken a vow," said he.

She started back agitated and trembling.

"I had reason to," he murmured, "pray at nights when you go to bed, that
I may be able to keep it."

"What?" sprang to her lips; but she restrained herself and only allowed
her glance to speak.

"Will you do it, Paula?"

"Yes, oh yes!" Her whole heart seemed to rush out in the phrase. She
drew back as at the opening of a door in an unexpected spot. Her eye had
something of fear in it and something of secret desperation too. He
watched her with a gaze that strangely faltered.

"A woman's prayers are a man's best safeguard," murmured he. "He must be
a wretch who does not feel himself surrounded by a sacred halo, while he
knows that pure lips are breathing his name in love and trust before the
throne of the Most High."

"I will pray for you as for myself," she whispered, and endeavored to
meet his eyes. But her head drooped and she did not speak as she would