s your coquetry
has blighted mine."

Lesley trembled. No woman could listen to such words unmoved, when her
armor of incredulity fell from her as Lesley's armor had fallen.
Hitherto she had felt a scornful disbelief in the reality of Oliver's
love for her. But now that disbelief had gone. There was a ring of
passionate feeling in Oliver's tones which could not be simulated. The
coldness, the artificiality of the man had disappeared: his passion for
Lesley had taken possession of him, and stirred his nature to the very
depths.

"Listen, Lesley," he said, in a low, strained voice, which shook and
vibrated with the intensity of his emotion, "don't let me feel this.
Don't let me feel that you have merely played with me, and are ready to
cast me off like an old shoe when you are tired. Other women do that
sort of thing, but not you, my darling!--not you--don't let me think it
of you. Forgive me the harsh things I said, and help me--help me--to
forget them."

He had grasped the back of a chair with both hands, and was kneeling
with one knee on the seat. He now stretched out his hands to her, and
came forward as if to take her in his arms. But Lesley drew back.

"I am very sorry," she said, "but I cannot help it. I did not mean to be
unkind."

"If you are really sorry for me," he said, still in the deep-shaken
voice which moved her to so uneasy a sense of pain and wrong-doing, "you
will do all you can for me. You will help me to begin a new life. I love
you so much that I am sure I could teach you to love me. I am certain of
it, Lesley--dearest--let me try!"

Did she falter for a moment? There flashed over her the remembrance of
Maurice's anger, of his continued absence, of the probability that he
would never come back to her; and the dream of a tender love that could
envelop the rest of her lonely life assailed her like a temptation. She
hesitated, and in that moment's pause Oliver drew nearer to her side.

"Kiss me, Lesley!" he whispered, and his head bent over hers, his lips
almost touched her own.

Then came the reaction--the awakening.

"Oh, no, no! Do not touch me. Do not come near me. I do not love you.
And if I did"--said Lesley, almost violently--"if I loved you more than
all the world, do you think that I would betray Ethel, my friend? that I
would be so false to her--and to myself?"

"Then you do love me?" he murmured, undisturbed by her vehemence, which
he did not think boded ill for his chances, after