“Have you told her?” Mrs. Denham demanded.

“Not in so many words.”

Mrs. Denham slowly sank into the chair and for several seconds appeared completely oblivious of the young man’s presence; then, turning sharply on Lynde, and half rising, she asked with a kind of fierceness, “Does Ruth know it?”

“A woman always knows when she is loved, I fancy.  Miss Denham probably knew it before I did.”

Mrs. Denham made an impatient gesture and subsided into the chair again.  She remained silent a while, staring at the pattern of the carpet at her feet.

“Mr. Lynde,” she said at length, “I was not prepared for this.  The possibility that you might grow interested in my niece naturally occurred to me at first.  I was pleased when I became convinced that the acquaintance between you had resolved itself into merely a friendly liking.  I was thrown off my guard by your seemingly frank manner.  I trusted you.  You have been alone with my niece but twice—­once for only ten minutes.  I will do you the justice to say that you have made the most of those two occasions.”

“I made very little of those two occasions,” said Lynde reflectively.

“I think you have been—­treacherous!”

“I do not see what there can be of treachery in my admiring Miss Denham,” he replied, with a flush.  “I entered into no compact not to admire her.”

“Mr. Lynde, Mr. Denham will not approve of this.”

“Not at first, perhaps...but afterwards?”

“Neither now nor afterwards, Mr. Lynde.”

“Why not?”

“He has other views for Ruth,” said Mrs. Denham coldly.

“Other views!” repeated Lynde, paling.  “I thought her free.”

“She is not free in that sense.”

The assertion Ruth had made to him the previous day on the mountain side, to the effect that she had never known any gentleman as intimately as she had known him, flashed across Lynde’s memory.  If Mr. Denham had views for her, certainly Ruth was either ignorant of them or opposed to them.

“Is Miss Ruth aware of Mr. Denham’s intentions regarding her?”

“I must decline to answer you, Mr. Lynde,” said Mrs. Denham, rising with something like haughtiness in her manner.

“You are right.  I was wrong to speak at present.  I cannot conceive what impelled me; it was neither the time nor the place.  I beg you to consider everything unsaid, if you can, and I especially beg you not to mention this conversation in your note to Mr. Denham.  The one important thing now is to have proper medical attendance for your niece.  The rest will take care of itself.”

Lynde bowed somewhat formally and was turning away, when Mrs. Denham laid her fingers lightly on the sleeve of his coat.  “I am sorry I have pained you,” she said, as if with a touch of remorse.

“I confess I am pained,” he replied, with the faintest smile, “but I am not discouraged, Mrs. Denham.”