arch and Miss Triscoe were discussing another
offence of Burnamy's.

"It wasn't," said the girl, excitedly, after a plunge through all the
minor facts to the heart of the matter, "that he hadn't a perfect right
to do it, if he thought I didn't care for him. I had refused him at
Carlsbad, and I had forbidden him to speak to me about--on the subject.
But that was merely temporary, and he ought to have known it. He ought
to have known that I couldn't accept him, on the spur of the moment,
that way; and when he had come back, after going away in disgrace,
before he had done anything to justify himself. I couldn't have kept my
self-respect; and as it was I had the greatest difficulty; and he ought
to have seen it. Of course he said afterwards that he didn't see it. But
when--when I found out that SHE had been in Weimar, and all that time,
while I had been suffering in Carlsbad and Wurzburg, and longing to
see him--let him know how I was really feeling--he was flirting with
that--that girl, then I saw that he was a false nature, and I determined
to put an end to everything. And that is what I did; and I shall always
think I--did right--and--"

The rest was lost in Agatha's handkerchief, which she put up to
her eyes. Mrs. March watched her from her pillow keeping the girl's
unoccupied hand in her own, and softly pressing it till the storm was
past sufficiently to allow her to be heard.

Then she said, "Men are very strange--the best of them. And from the
very fact that he was disappointed, he would be all the more apt to rush
into a flirtation with somebody else."

Miss Triscoe took down her handkerchief from a face that had certainly
not been beautified by grief. "I didn't blame him for the flirting; or
not so much. It was his keeping it from me afterwards. He ought to have
told me the very first instant we were engaged. But he didn't. He let it
go on, and if I hadn't happened on that bouquet I might never have known
anything about it. That is what I mean by--a false nature. I wouldn't
have minded his deceiving me; but to let me deceive myself--Oh, it was
too much!"

Agatha hid her face in her handkerchief again. She was perching on the
edge of the berth, and Mrs. March said, with a glance, which she did not
see, toward the sofa, "I'm afraid that's rather a hard seat for you.

"Oh, no, thank you! I'm perfectly comfortable--I like it--if you don't
mind?"

Mrs. March pressed her hand for answer, and after another little