takes the small,
cold hand in his. "I will tell you the truth. There is nothing horrible
or disgraceful in it! Your father proposed that instead of having any
business trouble to be years in the course of settlement, I should
marry you, as the patent was in such an uncertain state and he had
invested everything in it. It simply joined the fortunes, don't you
see? Well, I was a dumb, blundering idiot, head over heels in an
infatuation, and knew nothing about you, but it will be the regret of
my whole life that I did _not_ come when Floyd sent for me. And I
suppose he fell in love with you himself; he could not have cared for
the fortune, he had enough of his own."

Violet draws a long, shivering breath, but her very soul seems icy cold
with doubt.

"You did not--despise me?" she cries, with passionate entreaty.

"Despise you? Why, I didn't know anything about you." The young man's
lethargic conscience gives him a severe prick. He should not have made
light of it to Laura and madame, but he _did_ bind them to inviolate
secrecy. "If I had seen you I should not have despised you, I should
have married you," he says, triumphantly. "If you were free to-day, I
should ask you to marry me. I think you the sweetest and most rarely
honest girl I have ever met, and you _are_ beautiful, though I wouldn't
own that at first. Despise you? Why, I would fight the whole world for
you, and I will, if----"

"No," she interrupts. Even his spirited defence cannot restore what has
been so rudely wrenched away. She feels so old, so weary, so desolate,
that nothing matters. "It is not so bad----" and she looks up with
piteous eyes.

"Why, there is nothing bad about it at all," he declares, impatiently.
"Don't the English and the French plan marriages, and there are people
here whose parents join fortunes, lots of them! Marcia was angry and
wanted to mortify you. The idea of marrying Jasper Wilmarth and then
lording it over everybody, is too good! And as for flirting--well, I
wouldn't dare flirt with you," he says, laughingly. "Floyd would soon
settle me. I like you too well, I honor you too much," he continues.
"There, will you not be comforted with something? Oh, I have a letter
from Floyd, and he will be home to-morrow night! I came to bring it to
you."

He takes it from his pocket and hands it to her, but her fingers
tremble, and no joy lights up her pale face. Eugene is so sincerely
sorry that he holds himself in thorough contempt f