"Simply that I wish Eunice to have your protection, your kindness, your fortune."
"My fortune?"
"She has lost her own. She will be poor."
"Pray, how has she lost it?" the poor fellow asked, beginning to frown, and more and more bewildered.
"I can't tell you that, and you must never ask. But the fact is certain. The greater part of her property has gone; she has known it for some little time."
"For some little time? Why, she never showed any change."
"You never saw it, that was all! You were thinking of me," and I believe I accompanied this remark with a smile—a smile which was most inconsiderate, for it could only mystify him more.
I think at first he scarcely believed me. "What a singular time to choose to give a large party!" he exclaimed, looking at me with eyes quite unlike his old—or rather his young—ones; eyes that, instead of overlooking half the things before them (which was their former habit), tried to see a great deal more in my face, in my words, than was visible on the surface. I don't know what poor Adrian Frank saw—I shall never know all that he saw.
"I agree with you that it was a very singular time," I said. "You don't understand me—you can't—I don't expect you to;" I went on. "That is what I mean by devotion, and that is the kind of appeal I make to you: to take me on trust, to act
