“No, you may not.  Joe, will nothing ever cure you?  I should think the thought of Miss Wells—–­”

“Look here, Jim; she don’t care—­at least, it’s very little she cares.  And I’m—­I’m not worthy of her.”

“Turn around here and face me,” said the young minister sharply.

Joe turned and looked in his brother’s eyes.

“Have you trifled with her, as you have with so many others?  Tell me.  I know you don’t lie.”

“No.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Nothing much, Jim, except I’m really not worthy of her.  I’m no good, you know, and she ought to get a fellow like—­like you.”

“Absurd!  You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Never mind me.  See here; don’t you admire her?”

“Why—­why, yes,” stammered Jim, flushing a dark, guilty red at the direct question.  “Who could help admiring her?”

“That’s what I thought.  And I know she admires you for qualities which I lack.  Nell’s like a tender vine just beginning to creep around and cling to something strong.  She cares for me; but her love is like the vine.  It may hurt her a little to tear that love away, but it won’t kill her; and in the end it will be best for her.  You need a good wife.  What could I do with a woman?  Go in and win her, Jim.”

“Joe, you’re sacrificing yourself again for me,” cried Jim, white to the lips.  “It’s wrong to yourself and wrong to her.  I tell you—–­”

“Enough!” Joe’s voice cut in cold and sharp.  “Usually you influence me; but sometimes you can’t; I say this:  Nell will drift into your arms as surely as the leaf falls.  It will not hurt her—­will be best for her.  Remember, she is yours for the winning.”

“You do not say whether that will hurt you,” whispered Jim.

“Come—­we’ll find Colonel Zane,” said Joe, opening the door.

They went out in the hallway which opened into the yard as well as the larger room through which the colonel had first conducted them.  As Jim, who was in advance, passed into this apartment a trim figure entered from the yard.  It was Nell, and she ran directly against him.  Her face was flushed, her eyes were beaming with gladness, and she seemed the incarnation of girlish joy.

“Oh, Joe,” was all she whispered.  But the happiness and welcome in that whisper could never have been better expressed in longer speech.  Then slightly, ever so slightly, she tilted her sweet face up to his.

It all happened with the quickness of thought.  In a single instant Jim saw the radiant face, the outstretched hands, and heard the glad whisper.  He knew that she had a again mistaken him for Joe; but for his life he could not draw back his head.  He had kissed her, and even as his lips thrilled with her tremulous caress he flushed with the shame of his deceit.

“You’re mistaken again—­I’m Jim,” he whispered.

For a moment they stood staring into each other’s eyes, slowly awakening to what had really happened, slowly conscious of a sweet, alluring power.  Then Colonel Zane’s cheery voice rang in their ears.