hy are you so angry with me?"

"I'm not angry with you."

"With whom or with what, then?"

"With circumstances, I suppose. With life in general," he answered,
bitterly, "when it sets up such barriers between you and me."

"What barriers?"

"My dear Elizabeth, you used to have faculties above those of the rest
of your sex. Don't let your new position weaken them. I have surely not
the least need to tell you what I mean."

"You overrate my faculties," said Elizabeth. "You always did. I never do
know what you mean unless you tell me. I am not good at guessing."

"You need not guess then; I'll tell you. Don't you see that I am in a
very unfortunate position? I said to you the other night that I--I loved
you, that I would teach you to love me; and I could have done it,
Elizabeth! I am sure that you would have loved me in time."

"Well?" said Elizabeth, softly. Her lips were slightly tremulous, but
they were smiling, too.

"Well!" repeated her cousin. "That's all. There's an end to it. Do you
think I should ever have breathed a word into your ear if I had known
what I know now?"

"The fact being," said Elizabeth, "that your pride is so much stronger
than your love, that you would never tell a woman you loved her if she
happened to have a few pounds more than you."

"Exactly so," he answered, stubbornly.

"Then--as a matter of argument only, Percival--I think you are wrong."

"Wrong, am I? Do you think that a man likes to take gifts from his
wife's hands? Do you think it is pleasant for me to hear you offer
compensation to my father for the trifle that he has spent on you during
the last few years, and not to be in a position to render such an
offering unnecessary? I tell you it is the most galling thing in the
world, and, if for one moment you thought me capable of speaking to you
as I did the other night, now that I know you to be a wealthy woman, I
could never look you in the face again. If I seem angry you must try to
forgive me; you know me of old--I am always detestable when I am in
pain--as I am now."

He struck his foot angrily against the fender; his handsome face was
drawn and lined with the pain of which he spoke.

"Be patient, Percival," she said, with a smile which seemed to mock him
by its very sweetness. "As you say to me, you may think differently in
time."

"And what if I do think differently? What good will it be?" he asked
her. "I am not patient; I am not resigned to my fate, and I never