“How can I tell him there is no hope?” she murmured.  “It would be murder—­it would be killing soul and body.  What’s more, I love him—­God knows I love him.  My heart just yearns for him in boundless pity and sympathy, and I feel almost as if he were my crippled, helpless child as well as lover.  It would be cruel, selfish, and unwomanly to desert him because of his misfortune.  I haven’t the heart to do it.  His weakness and suffering bind me to him.  His appeal to me is like the cry of the helpless to God, and how can I destroy his one hope, his one chance?  He needs me more than does Roger, who is strong, masterful, and has a grand career before him.  In his varied activities, in the realization of his ambitious hopes, he will overcome his present feelings, and become my brother in very truth.  He will marry some rich, splendid girl like Miss Wetheridge by and by, and I shall be content in lowly, quiet ministry to one whose life and all God has put into my hands.  His parents treat Vinton as if he were a child; but he has reached the age when he has the right to choose for himself, and, if the worst comes to the worst, I could support him. myself.  Feeling as I do now, and as I ever shall, now that my heart has been revealed to me, I could not marry Roger.  It would be wronging him and perjuring myself.  He is too grand, too strong a man not to see the facts in their true light, and he will still remain the best friend a woman ever had.”

Then, with a furtive look at Belle to see that she was sleeping soundly, she wrote:  “Dear Vinton:  My heart would indeed be callous and unwomanly did it not respond to your letter, over which I have shed many tears.  Take all the hope you can from the truth that I love you, and can never cease to love you.  You do yourself injustice.  Your weakness and ill health are misfortunes for which you are not responsible.  So far from inspiring disgust, they awaken my sympathy and deepen my affection.  You do not know a woman’s heart—­at least you do not know mine.  In your constant love, your contempt for heartless, fashionable life, and your wish to do a man’s part in the world, you are manly.  You are right also in believing that if you lived in an atmosphere of respect and affection you would so change for the better that you would not recognize yourself.  For my sake as well as your own, try to rally, and make the most of your sojourn abroad.  Fix your mind steadily on some pursuits or studies that will be of use to you in the future.  Do not fear; I shall wait.  It is not in my nature to forget or change.”  And with some reference to their misfortunes, a repetition of her note which Jotham had lost, and further reassuring words, she closed her letter.

“I am right,” she said; “even Roger will say I am doing right.  I could not do otherwise.”

Having made a copy of the letter that she might show it to Roger, she at last slept, in the small hours of the night.  As early as possible on the following day she mailed the letter, with a prayer that it might not be too late.