Dick was once again surprised.
“How could you know that I had been with him on that night?” he inquired.
“I know it—alas! I know it,” she cried. “He is so good—so—generous—so noble! Oh, I must love him—I must! Sometimes I really think that I do love him.... And you saved his life, Dick. It would be the basest ingratitude on my part if I did not love him after that.... And the way he talks of your courage!—he told me how bravely you pursued the wretches who had waylaid him. He is full of your praises, Dick. Oh, I must love him! He is the worthiest man in the world to be loved. And I believe that I do love him. I sometimes believe that I do.”
“My poor Betsy,” he said, “I might give you counsel on this matter if it would be of any value to you. Alas! dear, I know that nothing that I could say to you would avail against the promptings of your own true heart. It was you who first taught me the lesson which I think I have since learned more fully—the lesson of the meaning of love. Who am I that I should offer any counsel to such as you? I can only tell you that I feel that Mr. Long is the best worthy of your love of all the men in the world. But you yourself know that already.”
“I do—indeed, I do know it,” she cried eagerly. “And that is why I say that I am sure, sometimes, that I do love him. I must—I must—only—— Oh, Dick, I am very unhappy!”
“My poor Betsy! my poor Betsy!”
That was all he could say.