"Can't help?" she repeated, flushing.
"Yes, my being here makes you unhappy. If I knew it, I'd go to-night."
"And you think that out of sight would be out of mind," she said, with a strange smile.
"Great God! I don't know what to think. I know that I would do anything under heaven to make you look as you did the first night I saw you."
"Do I look so badly?"
"You look as if you might take wings and leave us at any moment."
"Then I wouldn't trouble you any more."
"Then my trouble would be without remedy. Marry Mr. Hearn; marry him to-morrow, if you wish. I assure you that if you will be honestly and truly happy, I won't mope a day—I'll become the jolliest old bachelor in New York. I'll do anything within the power of man to make you your old joyous self."
Now at last she turned her large, glorious eyes upon me, and their expression was sadness itself; but she only said quietly:
"I believe you, Mr. Morton."