n an instant.

"Grand always has done me the justice to take my part as regards my
conduct about this hateful second engagement. He always knew that I
would have married poor Lucy if they would have let me--married her and
made the best of my frightful, shameful mistake. But as you know, Mrs.
Nelson, Lucy's mother, made me return her letters a month ago, and said
it must be broken off, unless I would let it go dragging on and on for
two years at least, and that was impossible, you know, John,
because--because, I so soon found out what I'd done."

"Wait a minute, my dear fellow," John interrupted hastily, "you have
said nothing yet but what expresses very natural feelings. I remark, in
reply, that your regret at what you have long seen to be unworthy
conduct need no longer disturb you on the lady's account, she having now
married somebody else."

"Yes," said Valentine, sighing restlessly.

"And," John went on, looking intently at him, "on your own account I
think you need not at all regret that you had no chance of going and
humbly offering yourself to her again, for I feel certain that she would
have considered it insulting her to suppose she could possibly overlook
such a slight. Let me speak plainly, and say that she could have
regarded such a thing in no other light."

Then, giving him time to think over these words, which evidently
impressed him, John presently went on, "It would be ridiculous, however,
now, for Dorothea to resent your former conduct, or St. George either.
Of course they will be quite friendly towards you, and you may depend
upon it that all this will very soon appear as natural as possible;
you'll soon forget your former relation towards your brother's wife; in
fact you must."

Valentine was silent awhile, but when he did speak he said, "You feel
sure, then, that she would have thought such a thing an insult?" He
meant, you feel sure, then, that I should have had no chance even if my
brother had not come forward.

"Perfectly sure," answered John with confidence. "That was a step which,
from the hour you made it, you never could have retraced."

Here there was another silence; then--

"Well, John, if you think so," said the poor fellow--"this was rather a
sudden blow to me, though."

John pitied him; he had made a great fool of himself, and he was
smarting for it keenly. His handsome young face was very pale, but John
was helping him to recollect his better self, and he knew it. "I shall