had every right,' he said. 'She might have done it more kindly,
perhaps, but that's nothing. Why didn't you tell me yourself, Ella? You
might have trusted me!'

'I couldn't--it seemed so cruel, so ungrateful, after all you had done.
I hoped you would never know.'

'It's well for you, and for me too, that I know this while there's still
time. Ella, I've been a blind, blundering fool. I never had a suspicion
of this till--till just now, or you don't think I should have gone on
with it a single minute. I came to tell you that you need not make
yourself miserable any longer. I will put an end to this--whatever it
costs me.'

'Oh, George, I am so ashamed. I know it is weak and cowardly of me, but
I can't help it. And--and will it cost you so very much?'

'Quite as much as I can bear.'

'No; but tell me--about _how_ much? More than a hundred pounds?'

'I haven't worked it out in pounds, shillings, and pence,' he said
grimly; 'but I should put it higher myself.'

'Won't they take back some of the things? They ought to,' she suggested
timidly.

'The things? Oh, the furniture! Good Heavens, Ella! do you suppose I
care a straw about that? All I can think of is how I could have gone on
deceiving myself like this, believing I knew your every thought; and all
the time--pah, what a fool I've been!'

'I thought I should get used to it,' she pleaded. 'And oh, you don't
know how hard I have tried to bear it, not to let anyone see what I
felt--you don't know!'

'And I would rather not know,' he replied, 'for it's not exactly
flattering, you see, Ella. And at all events, it's over now. This is the
last time I shall trouble you; you will see no more of me after to-day.'

Ella could only stare at him incredulously. Had he really taken the
matter so seriously to heart as this? Could he not forgive the wound to
his vanity? How hard, how utterly unworthy of him!

'Yes,' he continued, 'I see now we were quite unsuited to one another. I
should never have made you happy, Ella; it's best to find it out before
it's too late. So let us shake hands and say good-bye, my dear.'

She felt powerless to appeal to him, and yet it was not wholly pride
that tied her tongue; she was too shaken and stunned to make the least
effort at remonstrance.

'Then, if it must be,' she said at last, very low--'good-bye, George.'

He crushed her hand in his strong grasp. 'Don't mind about me,' he said
roughly. 'You've nothing to blame yourself for. I da