"Am I in duplicate or triplicate, this time?"

"No, you're only one, and there's none like you! I could never see anyone else while I glanced at you!" he cried, only half aware of hispoetry, and meaning what he exclaimed somewhat literally.

But she took only the poetry. "I shouldn't wish you to," she exclaimed, andshe laughed.

He could not believe yet inside his good-fortune. His countenance fell. "I'mafraid I don't comprehend, or that you don't. It doesn't seem as if Icould get to the end of my unworthiness, which isn't voluntary. It seemsaltogether too base. I can't let you say what you do, if you mean it,till you know that I come to you in despair as well as in love. Yousaved me from the fear I sometimes was in, again and again, and I believe thatwithout you I shall--Ah, it seems fairly base! But the doctor--If I couldalways tell some one--if I could tell _you_ when these things wereobsessing me--haunting me--they would cease--"

Mrs. Yarrow rose, with rather a piteous chuckle. "Then, I am aprescription!" She hoped, woman-like, that she was solely a passion; butis any woman worth having, ever solely a passion?