mid
it all, breathing its airs with an assurance born of right and nature.
No poverty could destroy his inalienable privileges, could render him
less by a hair's breadth; indeed, save for the manifest inconveniences
of the former, poverty or riches seemed irrelevant on that plane of high
humanity; where differences of fortune were obscured by the highness of
the humanity, however fertile in distinctions these differences might be
in a lower world.

But as the acquaintance ripened, as she tasted of the gracious intimacy
of the long sittings, his perfect kindness, his chivalry, his constant
solicitude began to undermine the attitude with which she had embarked
on the adventure. They had become such good friends, and she could not
blind herself to the fact that he was pressing his personality on her
beyond what mere courtesy and friendliness demanded. But she still
fought to stand firm, and her humility was her strength. It was even
more than her strength--it read for her his doubts and hesitations.

Not that she crudely supposed that, in his conduct to her, he was swayed
by ulterior considerations. She saw that he had genuinely an affection
for her, more kind and brotherly than a lover's affection; she knew that
he was trying to like her better, to raise her in his estimation far
higher than the truth. And she conceded that his hesitation was natural,
that she was no mate for him, that his world would openly despise her.
No, he must not marry her for the safety her fortune would bring him.
She would marry only for love, and, as that she could never win, she
would consequently never marry.

She dreaded now lest the situation should take a more definite turn,
lest he should begin to woo her in earnest. She wished to be left in
contentment with her deep secret happiness which could never be effaced
from her life. She had had her way. It was she who had brought him the
succour he needed; she--of whose existence he had never dreamed, whom he
had often met face to face yet never glanced at. It was she who had
rescued for the world's benefit this splendid genius that the world had
rejected. This was joy enough. To anything else the end must be
disillusion.

For awhile she lived in terror lest he might speak. But as the work
progressed, and he became more and more enthusiastic over her portrait,
she could not but fall a victim to the subtle implication, and begin to
believe that he must really think more of her than she had e