“You’ve been up all night, haven’t you, dearest?”

“Yes,—­I remembered, and then I couldn’t sleep.”

“What have you been doing all night?  It is morning now.”

“I walked up and down the floor, and pounded my hands together,” she admitted, with a mournful smile.

“You are nervous and excited,” he said tenderly.  “Let’s wait until after breakfast.  Then we’ll talk it all over with your father, and it shall be as he says.  Won’t that be better?”

“Oh, no.  For father will say whatever he thinks will make me happy.  He must not know a thing about it.  Promise, Jerry, that you will never tell him one word.”

“I promise, of course, Prudence.  I will let you tell him.”

But she shook her head.  “He will never know.  Oh, Jerry!  I can’t bear to think of never seeing you again, and never getting letters from you, and—­ It seems to kill me inside, just the thought of it.”

“Sit down here in my lap.  Put your head on my shoulder, like that.  Let me rub your face a little.  You’re feverish.  You are sick.  Go to bed, won’t you, sweetheart?  We can settle this later on.”

“You must go right away, or I can not let you go at all!”

“Do you mean you want me to get my things, and go right now?”

“Yes.”  She buried her face in his shoulder.  “If—­if you stay in your room until breakfast time, I will lock you in, so you can not leave me again.  I know it.  I am crazy to-day.”

“Don’t you think you owe me something, as well as your father and sisters?  Didn’t God bring us together, and make us love each other?  Don’t you think He intended us for each other?  Do you wish you had never met me?”

“Jerry!”

“Then, sweetheart, be reasonable.  Your father loved your mother, and married her.  That is God’s plan for all of us.  You have been a wonderfully brave and sweet daughter and sister, I know.  But surely Fairy is old enough to take your place now.”

“Fairy’s going to be a professor, and—­the girls do not mind her very well.  And she isn’t as much comfort to father as I am.—­It’s just because I am most like mother, you see.  But anyhow, I promised.  I can’t leave them.”

“Your father expects you to marry, and to marry me.  I told him about it myself, long ago.  And he was perfectly willing.  He didn’t say a word against it.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.  That’s just like father.  But still, I promised.  And what would the girls say if I should go back on them?  They have trusted me, always.  If I fail them, will they ever trust anybody else?  If you love me, Jerry, please go, and stay away.”  But her arm tightened about his neck.  “I’ll wait here until you get your things, and we can—­say good-by.  And don’t forget your promise.”

“Oh, very well, Prudence,” he answered, half irritably, “if you insist on ordering me away from the house like this, I can only go.  But——­”