"I ought to be thankful for even that—I shall be some day; but O Mildred! now it seems like giving me a crumb when I am starving—so famished that nothing less than a whole loaf will relieve the dreadful pain. And this other fellow that has won you away from me—will he—will he be taking you away from us soon?"
"No, Wallace, not soon, perhaps never," she answered in low, quivering tones.
He turned and faced her with an inquiring look. "I have misunderstood. I thought you said the—the affection was mutual."
"I will tell you all about it," she said after a moment's embarrassed silence. "I think I owe you the confidence as some slight amends for the pain I have unwillingly caused you."
Then in a few words she told him just how matters stood between Charlie Landreth and herself, withholding only the name of her favored suitor.
When she had finished, silence fell between them for many minutes. Mildred's eyes were cast down, Wallace's gazing straight before him or taking note of the inequalities of the road. They were nearing the town when at last he spoke again.
"I thank you for your confidence, dear Mildred, (you will let me call you that this once?) You know I shall never abuse it. I am sorry for your sake that he is not all you could wish. But don't let it make you unhappy. I couldn't bear that. And I hope and believe it will all come right in the end."
"Wallace, how good and noble you are!" she cried, looking at him with eyes brimming with tears. "We will always be friends—good, true friends, shall we not?" she asked, almost beseechingly, holding out her hand to him.
He caught it in his and pressed it to his lips with a low, passionate cry, "O Mildred! and can I never be more than that to you!"