--I wish you had been there, Mr. Winthrop. Please don't ask
me to describe it."

"I will get a description of how you received it then from Bovyer--he
could tell me better than you. He reads faces so well, I sometimes have a
fear he sees too far beneath our mask."

"I don't want to see him any more then," I said impetuously.

"Why not?"

"I do not want my soul to be scrutinized by strange eyes, any more than
you do, Mr. Winthrop."

"How do you know that I object?"

"Did you not say just now you had a fear he saw too deeply into us?"

"Possibly. I was speaking in a general way--meant humanity at large,
rather than my own individual self."

"Would you care if I could see all the thoughts and secrets of your soul
just at this moment, Mr. Winthrop?" I said, taking a step nearer, and
looking intently into his eyes, which returned my look with one equally
penetrating.

"No, Medoline. You, least of any one I know," he said, quietly. I looked
at him with surprise--perhaps a trifle grieved.

"Does that offend you?" he asked after a pause.

"It wounds me; for I am your friend."

"I am glad of that, little one."

"Glad that you have given me pain?" I asked, with an odd feeling as if I
wanted to burst into a fit of childish weeping.

He left his chair and came to my side.

"Why do you look so sorrowful, Medoline? I meant that it gave me pleasure
that you were my friend. I did not think that you cared for me."

"I am surprised at myself for caring so much for you when you are so hard
on me. I suppose it is because you are my guardian, and I have no one
else, scarcely, to love." I was beginning to think I must either escape
hastily to my room, or apply the bit of cobweb lace once more to my eyes,
which, if I could judge from my feelings, would soon be saturated with my
tears.

"I did not think I was hard on you," he said, gently. "I have been afraid
lest I was humoring your whims too much; but unselfishness, and thought
for the poor, have been such rare traits in the characteristics of my
friends, I have not had a heart hard enough to interfere with your
instincts."

Here was an entirely new revelation to me; I bethought me of Mrs.
Flaxman's remark a short time before, and repeated it to him.

"I do not think I shall ever have paternal feelings towards you,
Medoline, I am not old enough for that. Tell Mrs. Flaxman, if she speaks
that way again, I am not anxious for her to fasten in your heart filial
affection