That evening Michael came into the library unexpectedly. He had been out in the kitchen helping Morton to open a box that was refractory. He found the room entirely dark, and thought he heard a soft sound like sobbing in one corner of the room.

"Starr!" he said. "Starr, is that you?" nor knew that he had called her by her name, though she knew it very well indeed. She kept quite still for an instant, and then she rose from the little crumpled heap in the corner of the leather couch where she had dropped for a minute in the dark to cry out the strange ache of her heart when she thought Michael was safely in the kitchen for a while.

"Why, yes, Michael!" she said, and her voice sounded choky, though she was struggling to make it natural.

Michael stepped to the doorway and turned on the hall lights so that he could dimly see her little figure standing in the shadow. Then he came over toward her, his whole heart yearning over her, but a mighty control set upon himself.

"What is the matter--dear?" He breathed the last word almost under his breath. He actually did not realize that he had spoken it aloud. It seemed to envelope her with a deep tenderness. It broke her partial self-control entirely and she sobbed again for a minute before she could speak.

Oh, if he but dared to take that dear form into his aims and comfort her! If he but dared! But he had no right!

Michael stood still and struggled with his heart, standing quite near her, yet not touching her.

"Oh, my dear!" he breathed to himself, in an agony of love and self-restraint. But she did not hear the breath. She was engaged in a struggle of her own, and she seemed to remember that Hester-girl, and know her duty. She must not let him see how she felt, not for anything in the world. He was kind and tender. He had always been. He had denied himself and come here to stay with them in their need because of his gratitude toward her father for all he had done for him; and he had breathed that "dear" as he would have done to any little child of the tenement whom he found in trouble. Oh, she understood, even while she let the word comfort her lonely heart. Why, oh why had she been left to trifle with a handsome scoundrel? Why hadn't she been worthy to have won the love of a great man like this one?




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