"What has frightened you?" Susan repeated.
I answered in one word--I whispered his name: "Rothsay!"She looked at me in innocent surprise. "Has he met with some misfortune?" she asked, quietly.
"Misfortune"--did she call it? Had I not said enough to disturb her tranquillity in mentioning Rothsay's name? "I am living!" Isaid. "Living--and likely to live!"
Her answer expressed fervent gratitude. "Thank God for it!"I looked at her, astonished as she had been astonished when she looked at me.
"Susan, Susan," I cried--"must I own it? I love you!"She came nearer to me with timid pleasure in her eyes--with the first faint light of a smile playing round her lips.
"You say it very strangely," she murmured. "Surely, my dear one, you ought to love me? Since the first day when you gave me my French lesson--haven't I loved You?""You love _me?_" I repeated. "Have you read--?" My voice failed me; I could say no more.
She turned pale. "Read what?" she asked.
"My letter."
"What letter?"
