of me?" I said.

"Sign!" she repeated, "and we will see to that."

I obeyed. She asked for the lawyer's letter. I gave it to her, with the
lines which contained the man's vile insinuation folded down, so that
only the words above were visible, which proved that I had renounced my
legacy, not even knowing whether the person to be benefited was a man or
a woman. She took this, with the rough draft of my own letter, and the
signed renunciation--and opened the door.

"Pray come back, and tell me about it!" I pleaded.

She smiled, nodded, and went out.

Oh, what a long time passed before I heard the long-expected knock at
the door! "Come in," I cried impatiently.

Mrs. Fosdyke had deceived me. Mr. Sax had returned in her place. He
closed the door. We two were alone.

He was deadly pale; his eyes, as they rested on me, had a wild startled
look. With icy cold fingers he took my hand, and lifted it in silence to
his lips. The sight of his agitation encouraged me--I don't to this day
know why, unless it appealed in some way to my compassion. I was bold
enough to look at him. Still silent, he placed the letters on the
table--and then he laid the signed paper beside them. When I saw that, I
was bolder still. I spoke first.

"Surely you don't refuse me?" I said.

He answered, "I thank you with my whole heart; I admire you more than
words can say. But I can't take it."

"Why not?"

"The fortune is yours," he said gently. "Remember how poor I am, and
feel for me if I say no more."

His head sank on his breast. He stretched out one hand, silently
imploring me to understand him. I could endure it no longer. I forgot
every consideration which a woman, in my position, ought to have
remembered. Out came the desperate words, before I could stop them.

"You won't take my gift by itself?" I said.

"No."

"Will you take Me with it?"

That evening, Mrs. Fosdyke indulged her sly sense of humor in a new way.
She handed me an almanac.

"After all, my dear," she remarked, "you needn't be ashamed of having
spoken first. You have only used the ancient privilege of the sex. This
is Leap Year."

MR. COSWAY AND THE LANDLADY.

I.

THE guests would have enjoyed their visit to Sir Peter's country
house--but for Mr. Cosway. And to make matters worse, it was not Mr.
Cosway but the guests who were to blame. They repeated the old story of
Adam and Eve, on a larger scale. The women were the first sinners; and
the men were d