“I fear I have been one already,—­a sorry one, too.  It is possible to do mischief without being very intelligent or deliberate.  You are making my future, so far as you are concerned, clearer than I imagined it could be.  You do interest me deeply.  In one evening you make it evident how much I have lost in neglecting you—­for I have neglected you, though not intentionally.  Hereafter I shall be only too proud if you will talk to me as you have done, giving me glimpses of your thoughts, your work, and especially your dangers, where there are any.  Never deceive me in this respect, or leave me in ignorance.  Whatever may be the weaknesses of my nature, now that I have waked up, I am too proud a girl to receive all that I do from your hands and then give almost my whole life and thought to others.  I shall be too delighted if you are happier for my meddling and dropping down upon you.  I’ll keep your secrets too, you see;” and she confirmed her words by an emphatic little nod.  “You can talk to me about people, big and little, with whom you have to do, just as serenely as if you were giving your confidence to an oyster.

“But, papa, I am confronted by a question of real life, just as difficult for me as any that can perplex you.  I can’t treat this question any more as I have done.  I don’t see my way at all.  Now I am going to be as direct and straightforward as a man, and not beat around the bush with any womanish finesse.  There is a gentleman in this city who, if he knew I was in town to-night, would call, and I might not be able to prevent him from making a formal proposal.  He is a man whom I respect and like very much, and I fear I have been too encouraging,—­not intentionally and deliberately you know, but thoughtlessly.  He was the cleverest and the most entertaining of my friends, and always brought a breezy kind of excitement with him.  Don’t you see, papa?  That is what I lived for, pleasure and excitement, and I don’t believe that anything can be so exciting to a girl as to see a man yielding to her fascinations, whatever they may be.  It gives one a delicious sense of power.  I shall be frank, too.  I must be, for I want your advice.  You men like power.  History is full of the records of those who sold their own souls for it, and walked through blood and crime to reach it.  I think it is just as natural for a woman to love power also, only now I see that it is a cruel and vile thing to get it and use it merely for amusement.  To me it was excitement.  I don’t like to think how it may all end to a man like Fenton Lane, and I am so remorseful that I am half inclined to sacrifice myself and make him as good a wife as I can.”

“Do you love him?”