her in her present mood; but he did.

"It only means that I love you," said Ellesworth point blank.

The girl went from blinding white to blazing crimson, but she stood her
ground. The mortgage papers shook in her hands. He thought that she was
going to tear them up. To gain time, for he dared not approach her, he
stooped and picked up the disdained mistletoe. When he had raised
himself she shot out this awful question, looking at him as she did when
they first met.

"Are _you--He_?"

The young man bowed his head before her. If he had set fire to her
place, or robbed her father's grave, she could not have regarded him
with a more crushing scorn. She tried to speak again, but her passion
choked her.

"I--I give you back your home," he protested humbly. "It is mine no
longer. It is your own Don't blame me. I love you."

"My father did not bring me up to take valuable presents
from--Boston--gentlemen!" blazed the Southern girl.

She waved him aside, swept by him without another look, and melted out
of the room. But he noticed that she took the mortgage papers with her.

In the course of the morning he threw himself upon the mercy of Mrs.
McCorkle.

"I have a right," he said; "I want to make her my wife."

"Georgiella is not behaving prettily," said Mrs. McCorkle severely. "If
a Northerner _does act like_ a gentleman, the least a Southern girl can
do is to behave like a lady. I will speak to Georgiella, sir."

Georgiella came to the Christmas dinner with blazing eyes. She ate in
silence, looking like an offended goddess, dressed in an old black silk
gown of her mother's trimmed with aged Valenciennes lace.

But after dinner she stayed in the dining-room while Mrs. McCorkle and
Aunt Betsey went into the kitchen. She walked up to the Ming vase and
stood before it. Ellesworth followed her.

"I have been thinking it over," she began abruptly in a quaint
affectation of a business-like tone. "I will keep the mortgage--thank
you, sir. It _is_ my home, you know," she put in pugnaciously. "But I
will pay for it, if you please."

"_Pay for it!_" gasped Ellesworth.

"Yes, sir; I will sell you the Ming vase," returned Miss Benson calmly,
"and the two Revolutionary papers, and the coin of George the Second and
the rest--" She waved her hand toward the glass-case. "You may take them
to Boston with you."

These were her assets. Ellesworth looked at her for a moment, torn
between astonishment, pity, amusement and love;