need they ever occur again."

"I believe at last I apprehend you," said he, in a broken accent. "You
desire that our engagement should be broken off."

She made no answer, but averted her head.

"I will do my best to be calm, Florence," continued he, "and I will
ask as much of you. Let neither of us sacrifice the prospect of a
whole life's happiness for the sake of a petty victory in a very petty
dispute. If, however, you are of opinion--" he stopped, he was about
to say more than he had intended, more than he knew how to say,
and he stopped, confused and embarrassed.

"Why don't you continue?" said she, with a cold smile.

"Because I don't know what I was about to say."

"Then shall I say it for you?"

"Yes, do so."

"It was this, then, or at least to this purport: If you, Miss Florence
Walter, are of opinion that two people who have not succeeded in
inspiring each other with that degree of confidence that rejects
all distrust, are scarcely wise in entering into a contract of which
truthfulness is the very soul and essence, and that, though not very
gallant on _my_ part, as the man to suggest it, yet in all candour,
which here must take the place of courtesy, the sooner the persons so
placed escape from such a false position the better."

"And part?" said he, in a hollow feeble voice.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly, as though to say that, or any
similar word, will convey my meaning.

"Oh, Florence, is it come to this? Is this to be a last evening in its
saddest, bitterest sense?"

"When gentlemen declare that they 'insist,' I take it they mean to have
their way," said she, with a careless toss of her head.

"Good Heavens!" cried he in a passion, "have you never cared for me at
all? or is your love so little rooted that you can tear it from your
heart without a pang?"

"All this going back on the past is very unprofitable," said she coldly.

He was stung by the contemptuous tone even more than by the words she
used. It seemed as though she held his love so lightly she would not
condescend to the slightest trouble to retain it, and this too at a
moment of parting.

"Florence!" said he, in a tone of deep melancholy, "if I am to call
you by that name for the last time--tell me, frankly, is this a sudden
caprice of yours, or has it lain rankling in your mind, as a thing you
would conquer if you could, or submit to, if you must?"

"I suspect it is neither one nor the other," said she with a levity