he could not regard the professor as a fitting recipient for a love-confidence, or quite able to appreciate the delicacy of his feeling; and, besides, it seemed to him almost treason to reveal again the secret he had already confided to another.
Mr. Plateas noticed his friend's hesitancy, but ascribed it to agitation. After a pause he saw that the confession was not coming of itself, and tried to draw it out by asking questions. Although frank, the answers he received were brief; still, he was able to gather that the judge had been in love ever since coming to Syra,—three years before,—and had then vowed either to marry Mr. Mitrophanis's younger daughter, or never to marry at all. It was only within the last few months, however, that Mr. Liakos had met the young girl for the first time, at a friend's house, and had discovered that his love was returned.
"Where did this happen?"
"At my cousin's."
"Does she know the two girls?"
"Oh, yes; she was a friend of their mother's."
"Ah! Now I understand," cried the professor.
"Your cousin received your sighs. She has been your confidante! That 's why you never said anything to me."
The judge smiled, but his poor friend felt a little jealous of this cousin.
