This did not help the matter any, and only furthered the mistaken thought of Mr. Benton; nevertheless for the sake of that dear friend, for whom I knew I could have borne anything, I had, after all, a secret delight, in being misunderstood.  I was a willing martyr to a just cause, and we started together.

“Take my arm, Miss Minot.”

“Thank you, walking is second nature to me, and very easy,” I replied.

After walking a little further he said, “I am very glad of this opportunity to talk with you, Miss Minot; I fear, from what I gathered in our talk of this afternoon, your idea of me is one which I would fain alter—­it is not pleasant to feel that one is misjudged—­”

“I know that,” I interrupted.

—­“And especially when the charge is a serious one.  I cannot understand why I was so feared; rude enough I must have seemed, and your first words gave me a shock; I hardly know now how to explain it, and what I desire is light.  Pray tell me by what act of mine, you came to such an unwarrantable conclusion.”

“It was no act of yours at all.  Common sense, I suppose, told me you would not be foiled if you could help it.  All men are selfish.”

“Are not women?”

“No, sir,” I replied, “they are foolish.”

“Excuse the question, but has Mrs. Desmonde complained to you?”

“No, sir,” I said quickly—­that was a little story and then again it was not, I reasoned.

“So I must conclude that you feared for the safety of your friend, reading, as you thought you did, the terrible selfishness of my heart.

“I guess that is about right,” I said.

“You admit this as a fact?”

“Yes; before a judge, if you desire,” I said.

“That being the case, let me here say from my heart I am not as much in love with Mrs. Desmonde as I might be, and one reason is that I find her more and more enveloped in the strange fancies peculiar, I judge, to herself alone.”

“What am I to understand from this?  Strange fancies, indeed!  If truth and love are strange fancies, she is indeed enveloped.  My darling Clara!  She is a light leading to the eternal city.  I knew you could not understand her.”

“Well, Miss Minot, let me explain.  I know she is graceful, and beautiful, and truly good, but none can know positively there is an eternal city, and I must say I do not feel interested in the dreamy talk, which is, after all, only talk.”

“Goodness!” I exclaimed, “are you an infidel?”

“I cannot vouch for anything beyond this life.”

“If I felt I could not, I’d commit suicide to-morrow.”

He laughed heartily at this, and, as we were at Aunt Peggy’s door, could not answer until we turned toward home, when he said: 

“Instead of taking my life, I desire to keep it as long as I can, and get all the enjoyment possible on this side the grave.  I hope I have made myself understood, and disarmed every fear of your friendly heart.”