now to
stand well with him. The spark of truth and honor that was left in her
was elicited by his presence. It was this influence that governed her
conduct in this interview.

"I have come," said Philip in his direct manner, "from my friend
Mr. Brierly. You are not ignorant of his feeling towards you?"

"Perhaps not."

"But perhaps you do not know, you who have so much admiration, how
sincere and overmastering his love is for you?" Philip would not have
spoken so plainly, if he had in mind anything except to draw from Laura
something that would end Harry's passion.

"And is sincere love so rare, Mr. Sterling?" asked Laura, moving her foot
a little, and speaking with a shade of sarcasm.

"Perhaps not in Washington," replied Philip,--tempted into a similar
tone. "Excuse my bluntness," he continued, "but would the knowledge of
his love; would his devotion, make any difference to you in your
Washington life?"

"In respect to what?" asked Laura quickly.

"Well, to others. I won't equivocate--to Col. Selby?"

Laura's face flushed with anger, or shame; she looked steadily at Philip
and began,

"By what right, sir,--"

"By the right of friendship," interrupted Philip stoutly. "It may matter
little to you. It is everything to him. He has a Quixotic notion that
you would turn back from what is before you for his sake. You cannot be
ignorant of what all the city is talking of." Philip said this
determinedly and with some bitterness.

It was a full minute before Laura spoke. Both had risen, Philip as if to
go, and Laura in suppressed excitement. When she spoke her voice was
very unsteady, and she looked down.

"Yes, I know. I perfectly understand what you mean. Mr. Brierly is
nothing--simply nothing. He is a moth singed, that is all--the trifler
with women thought he was a wasp. I have no pity for him, not the least.
You may tell him not to make a fool of himself, and to keep away. I say
this on your account, not his. You are not like him. It is enough for
me that you want it so. Mr. Sterling," she continued, looking up; and
there were tears in her eyes that contradicted the hardness of her
language, "you might not pity him if you knew my history; perhaps you
would not wonder at some things you hear. No; it is useless to ask me
why it must be so. You can't make a life over--society wouldn't let you
if you would--and mine must be lived as it is. There, sir, I'm not
offended; but it is useless