"You must not ask me such questions; it would be wrong in me to answer."
"At least you can say if you think she loves me?"
Miss Chase hesitated.
"Speak the truth," said he, violently.
"No," returned Sybil, in a low whisper.
"Every one sees it," continued Lawrence; "I knew you did. She is hard-hearted and ungrateful."
"Do not be harsh—"
"How can I help it," he interrupted; "she has wrecked my life—turned it into a curse. I have no hope—not a friend."
A tear fell from Sybil's downcast lashes, and rolled slowly down her cheek; she stole one glance, full of beautiful sympathy toward him—that was all.
"I believe you pity me," he said; "of late I have begun to hope it. You will be my friend; say, will you not try to help me?"