nts of the past days.

"That allusion might have been spared," Laura replied, flinging up her
head. "A heart which has worn out love at three-and-twenty, as yours
has, you say, should have survived jealousy too. I do not condescend to
say whether I have seen or encouraged any other person. I shall neither
admit the charge, nor deny it: and beg you also to allude to it no
more."

"I ask your pardon, Laura, if I have offended you: but if I am jealous,
does it not prove that I have a heart?"

"Not for me, Arthur. Perhaps you think you love me now but it is only
for an instant, and because you are foiled. Were there no obstacle, you
would feel no ardour to overcome it. No, Arthur, you don't love me. You
would weary of me in three months, as--as you do of most things; and
mamma, seeing you tired of me, would be more unhappy than at my refusal
to be yours. Let us be brother and sister, Arthur, as heretofore--but no
more. You will get over this little disappointment."

"I will try," said Arthur, in a great indignation.

"Have you not tried before?" Laura said, with some anger, for she had
been angry with Arthur for a very long time, and was now determined, I
suppose, to speak her mind. "And the next time, Arthur, when you offer
yourself to a woman, do not say as you have done to me, 'I have no
heart--I do not love you; but I am ready to marry you because my mother
wishes for the match.' We require more than this in return for our
love--that is, I think so. I have had no experience hitherto, and have
not had the--the practice which you supposed me to have, when you spoke
but now of my having seen somebody else. Did you tell your first love
that you had no heart, Arthur? or your second that you did not love her,
but that she might have you if she liked?"

"What--what do you mean?" asked Arthur, blushing, and still in great
wrath.

"I mean Blanche Amory, Arthur Pendennis," Laura said, proudly. "It
is but two months since you were sighing at her feet--making poems
to her--placing them in hollow trees by the river-side. I knew all. I
watched you--that is, she showed them to me. Neither one nor the other
were in earnest perhaps; but it is too soon now, Arthur, to begin a new
attachment. Go through the time of your--your widowhood at least, and do
not think of marrying until you are out of mourning"--(Here the girl's
eyes filled with tears, and she passed her hand across them.) "I am
angry and hurt, and I have no right to be