Hildegarde came over to the hassock and flung herself down upon it and looked up with laughing eyes into her aunt's face.
"I sent you his picture," she said, "because you did not seem inclined to come here to meet him, auntie, so that you could see for yourself just how he looks. But it does not do him justice," went on Hildegarde, clasping her hands. "That portrait does not tell you how good and noble he is, and how much he thinks of me!"
An expression that was almost divine came over the face of Hildegarde Cramer as she uttered the words in a low, sweet voice.
"Tell me about him," again urged her aunt, anxious to fathom just how deep was the love the girl bore him.
Should she confide in Hildegarde the story of Ida May, Miss Fernly knew that the present state of affairs must end.
There were girls who would turn in horror from a man who had done as cruel a deed as that which was laid at the door of the man whom Hildegarde was about to marry. But might not Hildegarde cling to him despite all?
"He is all that is noble," continued Hildegarde, dreamily.
"What if he should cease to love you?" said her aunt.
Hildegarde started; a quiver of pain passed over the lovely face.