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Thelma's face saddened a little. "I think I am not worthy of his love,"
she said sorrowfully.
Mrs. Lorimer looked at her with some inquisitiveness.
"What makes you say that, my dear?"
"Because I feel it so much," she replied. "Dear Mrs. Lorimer, you
cannot, perhaps, understand--but when he married me, it seemed as if the
old story of the king and the beggar-maid were being repeated over
again. I sought nothing but his love--his love was, and is my life!
These riches--these jewels and beautiful things he surrounds me with--I
do not care for them at all, except for the reason that he wishes me to
have them. I scarcely understand their value, for I have been poor all
my life, and yet I have wanted nothing. I do not think wealth is needful
to make one happy. But love--ah! I could not live without it--and
now--now--" She paused, and her eyes filled with sudden tears.
"Now what?" asked Mrs. Lorimer gently.
"Now," continued the girl in a low voice, "my heart is always afraid!
Yes! I am afraid of losing my husband's love.


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