you allow her to continue to come to me, if you
thought I had a decided liking for her, and all that?"

"Because I chose to do it," she replied, with not the ripple of a smile
nor the furrow of a frown upon her face.

I looked at her in amazement.

"Madam," said I, "Interpolation, Mother Anastasia, or whatever name you
give yourself, begin now and tell me about Sylvia, and speak to me
freely, as I speak to you. I love her with all my heart. If I can, I
intend to marry her, Martha or no Martha. I care not what may be the
odds against me. Now you see exactly where I stand, and as far as I am
concerned you may speak without restraint."

"You are certainly very clear and explicit," she said, "and I shall be
glad to tell you about Sylvia."

XXV.

ABOUT SYLVIA.

"Before I begin," continued my companion, slanting her hat so as to
prevent the sun from meddling with the perfect tones of her complexion,
"tell me what you already know about this young lady. I do not wish to
waste any information."

"All I know," said I, "is that her family name is Raynor,--my
grandmother told me that,--that she is absolutely, utterly, and even
wickedly out of place in the House of Martha, and that I want her for my
wife."

"Very good," said my companion, with a smile. "Now I know what not to
tell you. I am very fond of Sylvia. In fact, I believe I love her better
than any other woman in the world"--

"So do I," I interrupted.

She laughed. "For a lover in check you are entirely too ready to move.
For years I have looked upon her as a younger sister, and there is no
good thing which I would not have lavished upon her had I been able, but
instead of that I did her an injury. At times I have thought it a
terrible injury."

"You mean," I asked, "that you have allowed her to enter the House of
Martha?"

"Your quickness is wonderful," she said, "but you do not put the case
quite correctly. Had it been possible for me to prohibit her joining our
sisterhood, I should have done so; but she was perfectly free to do as
she pleased, and my advice against it was of no avail. It was my example
which induced her to enter the House of Martha. She had had trouble. She
wished to retire from the world, and devote herself to good works which
should banish her trouble. I had so devoted myself. She loved me, and
she followed me. I talked to her until I made her unhappy, and then I
let her go her way. But the great object of my life for nearly