"Lucy," he said after a little struggle with his throat, "I have something to tell you,—something strange. Oh, no, nothing evil or bad, or anything like that."
He took her hands which were trembling.
"You must promise me that you will take this news quietly."
"Just as quietly as I can, Chester."
"Well, you know how excitement affects your heart, so I shall not tell you if you will not try to be calm."
"And now, of course, I can be indifferent, can I, even if you should say no more? Oh, Chester, what is it? The suspense is a thousand times harder than the truth. What have you got to tell me? What passed between you and papa last evening? Is it—have you ceased to love me?"
"No, no, Lucy, not that. I love you as much as ever, more than ever for something has been added to my first love—that of a love for a sister."
"Yes, Chester I know. When I was baptized—"
"No; you don't know. I don't mean that."
"What do you mean?"