"No, I'm not," came in a whisper. "I—you don't know—about—Charlie——" Tears fell fast, relieving the suppressed anguish of weeks.
"Oh, yes, I do." His words fell like balm.
"Charlie has been so good to me all these years. I can't bear to see him—drift. You know—I can't say it——"
"Don't say it," counseled the doctor. "I understand perfectly."
"And yet," with quivering voice, "you ask me why I turn Mr. Danvers away! Can't you understand—knowing his love for Judge Latimer? Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she gasped; but soon controlled herself. "And I'm afraid Charlie will vote for Mr. Burroughs because——"
"Exactly!" The doctor used the truth unsparingly. "Eva has secured many votes for Burroughs. But we'll hope that Charlie can be held in line. He has promised Danvers to vote for his candidate—the governor."
"Oh, but I'm afraid!" wailed the girl. "And if—oh, he would despise us both—we are of the same blood! If it were not for this dreadful contest I might be so happy!" Confession shone in her eyes.
"Thank God!" said the old man, reverently. "He has been good to you—both." He kissed the hand that trembled in his. "You have made me happy, too."
They sat in silent communion, the old man watching the play of emotion on the girl's sensitive face, now free from the look of anxiety that had been so apparent.
"Love is one long heartache," said the girl, plaintively. "Wouldn't you think, doctor, that if a man cared——"