Merwyn was pale and evidently embarrassed as he asked, “Mr. Vosburgh, have you a few moments of leisure?”

“Yes,” replied the gentleman, briefly.

He led the way to a private office and gave his caller a chair.

The young man was at a loss to begin a conversation necessarily of so delicate a nature, and hesitated.

Mr. Vosburgh offered no aid or encouragement, for his thought was, “This young fellow must show his hand fully before I commit myself or Marian in the slightest degree.”

“Miss Vosburgh, no doubt, has told you of the character of our last interview,” Merwyn began at last, plunging in medias res.

“My daughter is in the habit of giving me her confidence,” was the quiet reply.

“Then, sir, you know how unworthy I am to make the request to which I am nevertheless impelled.  In justice I can hope for nothing.  I have forfeited the privilege of meeting Miss Vosburgh again, and I do not feel that it would be right for me to see her without your permission.  The motives which first led me into her society were utterly unworthy of a true man, and had she been the ordinary society girl that I supposed she was, the results might have been equally deserving of condemnation.  I will not plead in extenuation that I had been unfortunate in my previous associations, and in the influences that had developed such character as I had.  Can you listen to me patiently?”

The gentleman bowed.

“I eventually learned to comprehend Miss Vosburgh’s superiority in some degree, and was so fascinated by her that I offered marriage in perfect good faith; but the proposal was made in a complacent and condescending spirit that was so perfectly absurd that now I wonder at my folly.  Her reply was severe, but not so severe as I deserved, and she led me to see myself at last in a true light.  It is little I can now ask or hope.  My questions narrow down to these:  Is Miss Vosburgh disposed to give me only justice?  Have I offended her so deeply that she cannot meet me again?  Had my final words no weight with her?  She has inspired in me the earnest wish to achieve such character as I am capable of,—­such as circumstances permit.  During the summer I saw her influence over others.  She was the first one in the world who awakened in my own breast the desire to be different.  I cannot hope that she will soon, if ever, look upon me as a friend; but if she can even tolerate me with some degree of kindliness and good-will, I feel that I should be the better and happier for meeting her occasionally.  If this is impossible, please say to her that the pledge implied among the last words uttered on that evening, which I shall never forget, shall be kept.  I shall try to look at right and duty as she would.”

As he concluded, Mr. Vosburgh’s face softened somewhat.  For a while the young man’s sentences had been a little formal and studied, evidently the result of much consideration; they had nevertheless the impress of truth.  The gentleman’s thought was:  “If Mr. Merwyn makes good his words by deeds this affair has not yet ended.  My little girl has been much too angry and severe not to be in danger of a reaction.”