“Oh, Roger, listen to me.  I’m desperately in earnest.  To let you sacrifice such prospects as Mrs. Wheaton said your uncle held out to you for our sakes oppresses me with guilt.  I can’t eat anything—­you don’t realize—­”

“Millie Jocelyn,” said Roger, his face becoming grave and gentle, “I know what you are driving at.  You might as well try to stop Spring from coming on.  I’m going to be your honest, faithful friend, so help me God!  Even if you left me now and refused to speak to me again, I’d watch over you and yours in every way I could.  It’s my good destiny, and I thank God for it, for I feel it’s making a man of me.  I won’t deceive you in one iota, and I admit to my shame that my worldly old uncle tempted me that night, especially after I saw from your face just how you felt.  Even then my hope was that I could do more for you by yielding to his views than if I stood out against them, but a little thought convinced me that you would starve rather than take aid from one who would not give open friendship and companionship, and you would be right.  Oh, I exult in your pride, and respect you for it.  You are my ideal woman, Millie, and if my uncle had owned this island, and had offered it all to me, I’d have made a wretched bargain in giving up for it the privilege of being here this evening, with the right to look you straight in the eyes without shame.  If I had yielded to him then, as the devil tempted me to, I’d never have known another day of self-respect or happiness.  I’m building now on the rock of honor and manhood, and you can’t say anything that will change my purpose.  I know what I am about if I am only a ‘boy’; and Mr. Wentworth, who has been told all, approves of my course.  So eat your oysters, Millie, and submit to the inevitable.”

“Oh, Roger, Roger, what shall I say to you?”

“Look here, Millie; if you were in my place, would you desert a brave, true girl in misfortune?  No; unlike me, you would never have hesitated a moment.”

“But, Roger, as you say you—­you—­saw in my face a truth that absolved you—­”

“What I saw in your face,” he said gravely, “is my misfortune.  It is not anything for which you are to blame in the least.  And, Millie, I’d rather have your friendship than any other woman’s love.  I’m choosing my own course with my eyes open, and, thank God, I’ve chosen rightly.  I’d have been the most miserable fellow in the whole city if I had chosen otherwise.  Now I’m happy.  It’s all right.  I’ve vowed to be a brother to Belle, and to do all in my power for your sweet, gentle mother.  I’ve vowed to be your true friend in all respects, and if you protested till Doomsday it wouldn’t make any difference.  I’ve written to my mother, and I know her well enough to be sure that she will approve of my course.  So will my father by and by.  He isn’t bad at heart, but, like uncle, a dollar is so large in his eyes that it hides the sun.  Be that as it may, I’m just as