“I do not think that Gladys would ever be guilty of anything so unkind. Geoff; she loves you far too well for that,” returned Mr. Huntress, gravely, but still closely watching his protege, for he could well understand the pain he was suffering.
Geoffrey’s face kindled, and his companion could see his temples throbbing as the blood coursed more quickly through his veins at his words.
“Thank you, Uncle August, for assuring me of Gladys’ affection; but I want her respect as well,” he said, with a slight quiver in his tone.
August Huntress started at that reply, for it betrayed a great deal.
It told him that the devotion and affection which he had manifested for Gladys from the first had now grown into a strong, deep passion, which would either make or mar his whole future, and he was strangely moved by this discovery.
How would it be with Gladys if she should discover it? Would her heart respond to this wealth of love? Would she ever be willing to link her fate with his?
She was far in advance of Geoffrey, mentally, but he was making such rapid and resolute strides after her, that, at the rate he had been gaining on her of late it could not be very long before he would reach the plane on which she was standing, even if he did not distance her altogether.
Well, well, it would be a romantic ending to the story of their lives, he thought, if these two, so strangely thrown upon his care—with so much of mystery surrounding their birth and parentage, and likely always to envelope them—should some day unite their fates and wed each other.
But he allowed nothing of all this musing to appear; he simply said, with his accustomed kindness and genial smile:
“You are worthily ambitious, Geoff, but I don’t know how you will stand it to apply yourself so closely all summer and then go right on in the fall. I cannot allow you to sacrifice your health to your love for study.”