s is it
since the man left England to whom I promised to be faithful? and
already--But this I can do, Mr. Trelyon: I will bid you good-bye now,
and I will never see you again."

Her face was quite pale. She held out her hand.

"No," he said firmly. "We don't part like that, Wenna. First, let me say
that you have nothing to accuse yourself of. You have done nothing and
said nothing of which any man, however mean and suspicious, could
complain. Perhaps I was too hasty in speaking of my love for you. In
that case I've got to pay for my folly."

"And it is folly, Mr. Trelyon," she said passionately, and yet with
nothing but tenderness in her face. "How could you have thought of
marrying me? Why, the future that ought to lie before you is far more
than you can imagine yet; and you would go and hamper it by marrying an
innkeeper's daughter! It is folly indeed, and you will see that very
soon. But--but I am very sorry all this has occurred: it is another
grief to me that I have troubled you. I think I was born to bring grief
to all my friends."

He was anxiously debating what he should do; and he needed all his wits
at that moment, for his own feelings were strong within him, and
clamoring for expression. Should he insist? Should he bear down all
opposition? Happily, quieter counsels prevailed, for there was no
mistake as to the absolute truthfulness of what the girl had said.

"Well, Wenna," he said, "I will do anything you like, only to remain
your friend. Is that possible? Will you forgive all that I have said if
I make you a promise not to repeat it, and never again to mention your
engagement to Mr. Roscorla?"

"No, we must part now altogether," she said slowly. Then by haphazard
she glanced up at his face for a moment, and there was a great sadness
in her eyes. "It is a hard thing to part. Perhaps it will not be
necessary that you should never come to see me. But we must not be
friends as we have been, for I have my duty to do toward him."

"Then I may come to see you sometimes?"

She hesitated: "You may come to see my mother sometimes. And I will
always think of you as a dear friend, whether I see you or not."

He went outside, and drew a long breath. "I had to keep a tight grip on
the reins that time," he was thinking to himself--"a precious tight
grip; but I did it."

He thought of the look there was in her eyes when she finally bid him
goodbye. His face grew the happier as he thought of it. He was clearly