Ruth had turned her head to look at Philip Alston, with a start of surprise and a little disquietude, but without fear or distrust.  She could not believe that he would wish her to marry William after he knew that she loved Paul; such a thought never crossed her mind.  Yet, as she looked, a strange feeling of alarm which she did not comprehend swept over her, filling her with formless terror.  Some instinct made her shrink, as if this wonderful string of pearls, which she had thought so beautiful a moment before, had turned into a cruel chain and was binding her fast.  She did not know that many a weaker man has thus bound many a stronger woman with chains of gold and ropes of pearls.  But she felt it, and her instinct was quicker than her lover’s thought.  Had her hands been free she would have thrown the fetters from her, and finding herself helpless, she turned to Paul Colbert for help.

“Take them off!  Quick—­quick!  They are too heavy,” she gasped.

It was Philip Alston who reached her first, and took the pearls from her neck and the candles from her hands; but she did not look at him, and went to her lover as if he had called her.  Paul’s arm going out to meet her drew her to his side, and then, as the young couple thus stood close together, the truth was plain enough to every one whose eyes rested upon them.  Philip Alston’s face turned very white, and he made a movement as if he would spring between them and part them by force.  But he checked the impulse, after that uncontrollable start, and stood still, bearing in enforced silence, and as best he could, as hard a trial as love ever put before pride.  William Pressley also stood still and silent, suffering bitterer pangs through his wounded self-love than love itself ever could have inflicted upon him.  Judge Knox straightened up from his doze in bewildered astonishment, and made a displeased exclamation, but it passed unheard.  The old ladies by the hearth were dumb with amazement.  The boy stood unnoticed in his dark corner under the stairs.

The young doctor now began to speak deliberately, calmly, and clearly, being fully prepared with every word that he wished to utter.  He told the whole story with the simple directness that was natural to him.  He explained why he had not spoken sooner, and dwelt upon Ruth’s scruples because he wished her position to be fully understood, not because he felt it necessary to excuse anything upon his own account.  When he had said everything that he thought should be said, and when he had spoken modestly and proudly of their love for each other, he went on to make frank mention of his affairs, his family, and his place in life.  And then he turned to the judge:—­

“There is, as you see, sir, no reason why I should not ask you to give her to me,” he said with a boyish blush dyeing his handsome young face, “since I have been so honored, so happy, and so fortunate as to win her consent.  I am ready and eager to tell you anything else that you may wish to know, sir.”