to us in
London, though you did your best to prevent it, we discovered all about
you. Immediately, as is often the way with young girls, a change came.
She is simplicity itself. She is also the soul of honour. She feared
to let her true soul be seen, lest you might think that we were
cultivating your acquaintance for the sake of your wealth."

"I never dreamt of such a thing," Browne replied indignantly. "That is
the worst part of being a rich man, Madame Bernstein. One-half of the
world preys upon you for your money, while a large number will not be
friendly to you lest they may be supposed to be doing the same. I
should be a cad of the first water if I had ever thought for a moment,
that Miss Petrovitch was capable of such a thing."

From the way he spoke Madame Bernstein saw that she had overshot her
mark, and she was quick to make up for her mistake.

"I do not think I said that we thought so, Monsieur Brown," she said.
"I only remarked that I feared my ward was afraid lest you might do so."

"She might have known me better than that," said Browne a little
reproachfully. "But perhaps you will tell me what it is you wish me to
do?"

"Ah! In asking that question you bring me to the most difficult point
in our interview," she replied. "I will show you why. Before I do so,
however, I want you to give me your promise that you will not be
offended at what I am about to say to you."

"I will certainly promise that," Browne answered.

"I am going to put your friendship to a severe test," Madame continued.
She paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts. When she spoke
again it was with an abruptness that was most disconcerting. "You must
be blind indeed," she said, "if you cannot see, Monsieur Browne, that
Katherine loves you."

The revulsion of feeling caused by her announcement of this fact was so
strong that, though Browne tried to speak, he found he was incapable of
uttering a word. And yet, though she seemed so certain of what she
said, there was something in the way she said it that did not ring
quite true.

"Monsieur Browne," she went on, leaning a little forward and speaking
with still greater earnestness, "I feel sure you will understand how
much all this means, not only to her but to me. Since my poor
husband's death she has been all I have had to live for, and it cuts my
heart in pieces to see her so unhappy."

"But what would you have me do?" inquired Browne.

"That is the very