And
this morning as I tripped lightly by my guardian's side, I fancied I had
never seen this quiet pathway even in its midsummer glory look so
perfect.
"It is a wise plan not to tell your friends the truth always. Masculine
vanity is occasionally as strongly developed as feminine," he said after
we had gone some time in silence.
"But you are not vain, Mr. Winthrop; I never saw any one so free from
it," I said, gravely.
"You are determined to overwhelm me with your flattery. We must change
our conversational topics altogether."
"First, let me ask if flattery is not half-sister to falsehood?"
"Probably they are pretty closely related; but why are you anxious to get
that matter settled?"
"Because I do not want you to believe I ever tell you what is not true.
I do not think I could, if I tried."
"You reserve that privilege, then, for your other friends."
"Oh, no; I am never tempted to be untruthful with them."
"And are you so tempted in your relation with me?" he asked, a little
sternly.
"Sometimes."
"Why, Medoline, you astonish me. Tell me what reason you have for being
so tempted?"
"You make me afraid of you; that is my only reason," I murmured,
trembling already with a touch of my natural fear of him.
"I am sorry to know that I stand in the relation of an ogre to you."
"You do not, and I never meant to tell you that. I am afraid of you. By
and bye, when I get a little older, I do not think that I shall be; but
you make me tell you everything.
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