His lungs shook him with a deep and tremulous inspiration. For a
little he could not answer.
"That is why you do not love me?" she whispered again.
"I do love you," he said with a strong effort to control himself,
"but I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garment."
"Tell me why, Sidney?"
"Some day--I do not know when--I will tell you all. And if you can
love me after that, we shall both be happy."
"Tell me now," she urged.
"I cannot," said he, "but if you only trust me, Polly, you shall
know. If you will not trust me--"
He paused, looking down at the snow path.
"Good night!" he added presently.
They kissed and parted, each going to the company of bitter tears.
As of old, Trove had many a friend,--school-fellows who came of an
evening, now and then, for his help in some knotty problem. All
saw a change in him. He had not the enthusiasm and good cheer of
former days, and some ceased to visit him. Moreover they were free
to say that Trove was getting a big head. For one thing, he had
become rather careless about his clothes,--a new trait in him, for
he had the gift of pride and the knack of neatness.
A new student sought his acquaintance the very first week of the
term,--that rather foppish young man who got off the cars at
Hillsborough the day of their first coming.
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