"My God, Sara!" again fell in a hoarse whisper from the girl's lips.
"I simply voice my point of view," explained Sara calmly. "As I said before, we look at things differently."
"I can't believe you mean what you have said," cried Hetty. "Why—why, if I loved him with all my heart, soul and body I could not even think of—Oh, I shudder to think of it!"
"I love you," continued Sara, fixing her mysterious eyes on those of the girl, "and yet you took from me something more than a brother. I love you, knowing everything, and I am paying in full the debt he owes to you. Leslie, knowing nothing, is no less your debtor. All this is paradoxical, I know, my dear, but we must remember that while other people may be indebted to us, we also owe something to ourselves. We ought to take pay from ourselves. Please do not conclude that I am urging or even advising you to look with favour upon Leslie Wrandall's honourable, sincere proposal of marriage. I am merely trying to convince you that you are entitled to all that any man can give you in this world of ours,—we women all are, for that matter."
"I was sure that you couldn't ask me to marry him. I couldn't believe—"
"Forget what I have said, dearest, if it grieves you," cried Sara warmly. She arose and drew the girl close to her. "Kiss me, Hetty." Their lips met. The girl's eyes were closed, but Sara's were wide open and gleaming. "It is because I love you," she said softly, but she did not complete the sentence that burned in her brain. To herself she repeated: "It is because I love you that I would scourge you with Wrandalls!"
"You are very good to me, Sara," sobbed Hetty.
"You WILL be nice to Leslie?"
"Yes, yes! If he will only let me be his friend."
"He asks no more than that. Now, you must go to bed."