made up my mind that it would
be better to throw him over than make us both miserable for life."

"Certainly."

"And I did so. I made a struggle and did it. From that time to this
I have had nothing to say to him,--nor he to me. You may say that I
treated him badly."

"I don't say so. I, at any rate, do not say so."

"My own, own man. Then we went abroad, and as good fortune would have
it you came in our way. It was not long before you made me love you.
That was not my fault, George. I loved you so dearly when you were
telling me that story about the other girl;--but, somehow, I could
not tell you then a similar story about myself. It seemed at first so
odd that my story should be the same, and then it looked almost as
though I were mocking you. Had you had no story to tell, you would
have known all my own before I had allowed myself to be made happy by
your love. Do you not perceive that it was so?"

"Yes," he said, slowly, "I can understand what you mean."

"But it was a mistake; for from day to day the difficulty grew upon
me, and when once there was a difficulty, I was not strong enough to
overcome it. There never came the moment in which I was willing to
mar my own happiness by telling you that which I thought would wound
yours. I had not dreamed beforehand how much more difficult it would
become when I should once be absolutely your wife. Then your sister
came and she told me. She is better than anybody in the world except
yourself."

"All women are better than I am," he said. "It is their nature to be
so."

Some half-ludicrous idea of Miss Altifiorla and her present
difficulties came across her mind, as she contradicted his assertion
with another shower of kisses. "She told me," continued Cecilia,
"that I was bound to let you know all the truth. Of course I knew
that; of course I intended it. But that odious woman was in the
house, and I could not tell you till she was gone. Then he came."

"Why did he come?"

"He had no right to come. No man with the smallest spirit would have
shown himself at your door. I have thought about it again and again,
and I can only imagine that it has been his intention to revenge
himself. But what matter his intentions so long as they do not come
between you and me? I want you to know all the truth, but not to
imagine more than the truth. Since the day on which I had told him
that he and I must part, there has been no communication between us
but what you know. He came