Her dark, full eyes, the warm blood that her thoughts brought into her face even in the solitude of her chamber, did not belie her nature, which was intense, and capable of a strong and an abiding passion when once kindled.
Mr. Hargrove had watched her with the deepest solicitude on her return, and he felt rather than saw the change that had taken place in his idol. She had pleaded fatigue, and retired early. In the morning she was again conscious of his half-questioning scrutiny, and when he went to his study she followed, and told him what had occurred. He grew very pale, and drew a long, deep breath. Then, as if mastered by a strong impulse, he clasped her to his heart, and said, in trembling tones, "Oh, Trurie, if I had lost you!"
"I fear you would have lost me, papa, had it not been for Mr. Clifford."
He paced the room for a few moments in agitation, and at last stopped before her and said: "Perhaps in a sense I am to lose you after all. Has Mr. Clifford spoken?"
"No, papa; he has only risked his life to save mine."
"You are very grateful?"
"Yes."
"Do not think I underestimate his act, Trurie; but, believe me, if he should speak now or soon, you are in no condition to answer him."
She smiled incredulously.
"He did what any man would do for a woman in peril. He has no right to claim such an immense reward."