him."
Mary took the scrap of paper from her hand and read it. "He is not
sure, you see," continued Mrs. Fenwick. "He has written to me, and I
suppose that I must answer him."

"He shall certainly never have to blush for me as his wife," said
Mary. But she would not tell her friend of the hard words that had
been said to her. She understood well the allusion in Mr. Gilmore's
note, but she would not explain it. She had determined, as she
thought about it in her solitude, that it would be better that she
should never repeat to anyone the cruel words which her lover had
spoken to her. Doubtless he had received provocation. All his anger,
as well as all his suffering, had come from a constancy in his love
for her, which was unsurpassed, if not unequalled, in all that
she had read of among men. He had been willing to accept her on
conditions most humiliating to himself; and had then been told, that,
even with those conditions, he was not to have her. She was bound
to forgive him almost any offence that he could bestow upon her. He
had spoken to her in his wrath words which she thought to be not
only cruel but unmanly. She had told him that she would never speak
willingly to him again; and she would keep her word. But she would
forgive him. She was bound to forgive him any injury, let it be what
it might. She would forgive him;--and as a sign to herself of her
pardon she would say no word of his offence to her friends, the
Fenwicks. "He shall certainly never have to blush for me as his
wife," she said, as she returned the note to Mrs. Fenwick.

"You mean, that you never will be his wife?"

"Certainly I mean that."

"Have you quarrelled with him, Mary?"

"Quarrelled? How am I to answer that? It will be better that we
should not meet again. Of course, our interview could not be pleasant
for either of us. I do not wish him to think that there has been a
quarrel."

"No man ever did a woman more honour than he has done to you."

"Dearest Janet, let it be dropped;--pray let it be dropped. I am sure
you believe me now when I say that it can do no good. I am writing to
my aunt this moment to tell her that I will return. What day shall I
name?"

"Have you written to your cousin?"

"No I have not written to my cousin. I have not been able to get
through it all, Janet, quite so easily as that."

"I suppose you had better go now."

"Yes;--I must go now. I should be a thorn in his side if I were to
remain here."

"He will