ook pale and tired."

Percival threw his arm over the back of the seat with an impatient
motion, and looked at the river. "Nothing else?" he asked, drily. "It
seems hardly worth while to send for me if that was all. The doctor
would have done better."

"There is something else," said Elizabeth, in so quiet and even a voice
as to sound almost indifferent.

"Well, I supposed so. What is it?"

"You are making it very hard for me to tell you, Percival," said she,
with one of her old, straight glances. "What is it you know? What is it
you suspect?"

"Excuse me, Elizabeth, I have not said that I know or suspect anything.
Everybody seems a little uncomfortable, but that is nothing. What is the
matter?"

As she did not answer, he turned and looked at her. Her face was pale,
but there was a look of indomitable resolve about her which made him
flinch from his purpose of maintaining a cold and reserved manner. A
sudden fear ran through his heart lest Kitty's warning should be true!

"Elizabeth," he said, quickly and passionately, "forgive me for the way
in which I have spoken. I am an ill-tempered brute. It is my anxiety for
you that makes me seem so savage. I cannot bear to see you look as you
do: it breaks my heart!"

Her lip trembled at this. She would rather that he had preserved his
hard, sullen manner: it would have made it more easy for her to tell her
story. She locked her hands closely together, and answered in low,
hesitating tones:--

"I am not worth your anxiety. I did not mean to be--untrue--to you,
Percival. I suffered a great deal before I made up my mind that I had
better tell you--everything."

A tear fell down her pale cheek unheeded. Percival rose to his feet.

"I don't think there is much to tell, is there?" he said. "You mean that
you wish to give me up, to throw me over? Is that all?"

His words were calm, but the tone of ironical bitterness in which they
were uttered cut Elizabeth to the quick. She lifted her head proudly.

"No," she said, "you are wrong. I wish nothing of the kind."

He stood in an attitude of profound attention, waiting for her to
explain. His face wore its old, rigid look: the upright line between his
brows was very marked indeed. But he would not speak again.

"Percival," she said--and her tone expressed great pain and profound
self-abasement--"when I promised to marry you--someday, you will
remember that I never said I loved you. I thought that I should learn to
love