"
"Would you care if I could see all the thoughts and secrets of your soul
just at this moment, Mr. Winthrop?" I said, taking a step nearer, and
looking intently into his eyes, which returned my look with one equally
penetrating.
"No, Medoline. You, least of any one I know," he said, quietly. I looked
at him with surprise--perhaps a trifle grieved.
"Does that offend you?" he asked after a pause.
"It wounds me; for I am your friend."
"I am glad of that, little one."
"Glad that you have given me pain?" I asked, with an odd feeling as if I
wanted to burst into a fit of childish weeping.
He left his chair and came to my side.
"Why do you look so sorrowful, Medoline? I meant that it gave me pleasure
that you were my friend. I did not think that you cared for me."
"I am surprised at myself for caring so much for you when you are so hard
on me. I suppose it is because you are my guardian, and I have no one
else, scarcely, to love." I was beginning to think I must either escape
hastily to my room, or apply the bit of cobweb lace once more to my eyes,
which, if I could judge from my feelings, would soon be saturated with my
tears.
"I did not think I was hard on you," he said, gently. "I have been afraid
lest I was humoring your whims too much; but unselfishness, and thought
for the poor, have been such rare traits in the characteristics of my
friends, I have not had a heart hard enough to interfere with your
instincts."
Here was an entirely new revelation to me; I bethought me of Mrs.
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