replied
Margaret, looking up with some spirit. "I do not wish to speak of Mrs
Rowland--but remember, your mother never doubted what your sister said;
the information was given in such a way as left almost an impossibility
of disbelief. There was nothing to set against the most positive
assurances--nothing from you--not a word to any of your old friends--"

"And there was I, working away on a new and good plan of life, living
for you, and counting the weeks and days between me and the time when I
might come and show you what your power over me had enabled me to do--
and you were all the while despising or forgetting me, allowing me no
means of defending myself, yielding me up to dishonour with a mere shake
of the head, as if I had been an acquaintance of two or three
ball-nights. It is clear that you knew my mind no better than I now
find I knew yours."

"What would you have had me do?" asked Margaret, with such voice as she
had.

"I believe I had not thought of that," said Philip, half laughing. "I
only felt that you ought to have trusted me--that you must have known
that I loved neither Miss Bruce, nor any one but you; and that I could
not be engaged to any one while I loved you.--Tell me at once,
Margaret--did I not deserve this much from you?"

"You did," said Margaret, distinctly. "But there is another way of
viewing the whole, which does not seem to have occurred to you. I have
been to blame, perhaps; but if you had thought of the other
possibility--"

"What other? Oh! do speak plainly."

"I must, at such a time as this. If I could not think you guilty, I
might fancy myself to have been mistaken."

"And did you fancy so? Did you suppose I neither loved you, nor meant
you to think that I did?"

"I did conclude myself mistaken."

"Oh, Margaret! I should say--if I dared--that such a thought--such
humility, such generosity--could come of nothing but love."

Margaret made no reply. They understood one another too completely for
words. Even in the first gush of joy, there was intense bitterness in
the thought of what Margaret must have suffered; and Philip vowed, in
the bottom of his soul, that his whole life should be devoted to make
her forget it. He could have cursed his sister with equal energy.

There was no end to what had to be said. Philip was impatient to tell
what he had been doing, and the reasons of the whole of his conduct.
Margaret's views had become his own, as to the desultorin