She put a hastily written note into his hand and watched him intently

while he read it. She saw him flush with anger, bite his lips, and knit

his brows, then assume his haughtiest look, as he lifted his eyes and

said in his most sarcastic tone, "Very well for a beginning. The boy has

eloquence. Pity that it should be wasted. May I ask if you have replied

to this rhapsody?"

"I have."

"And what follows? He begs you 'to fly with him, to share his fortunes,

and be the good angel of his life.' Of course you consent?"

There was no answer, for, standing erect before him, Miss Muir regarded

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him with an expression of proud patience, like one who expected

reproaches, yet was too generous to resent them. Her manner had its

effect. Dropping his bitter tone, Coventry asked briefly, "Why do you

show me this? What can I do?"

"I show it that you may see how much in earnest 'the boy' is, and how

open I desire to be. You can control, advise, and comfort your brother,

and help me to see what is my duty."

"You love him?" demanded Coventry bluntly.

"No!" was the quick, decided answer.

"Then why make him love you?"

"I never tried to do it. Your sister will testify that I have endeavored

to avoid him as I--" And he finished the sentence with an unconscious

tone of pique, "As you have avoided me."

She bowed silently, and he went on: "I will do you the justice to say that nothing can be more blameless

than your conduct toward myself; but why allow Ned to haunt you evening

after evening? What could you expect of a romantic boy who had nothing

to do but lose his heart to the first attractive woman he met?"

A momentary glisten shone in Jean Muir's steel-blue eyes as the last

words left the young man's lips; but it was gone instantly, and her

voice was full of reproach, as she said, steadily, impulsively, "If the

'romantic boy' had been allowed to lead the life of a man, as he longed

to do, he would have had no time to lose his heart to the first

sorrowful girl whom he pitied. Mr. Coventry, the fault is yours. Do not

blame your brother, but generously own your mistake and retrieve it in

the speediest, kindest manner."

For an instant Gerald sat dumb. Never since his father died had anyone

reproved him; seldom in his life had he been blamed. It was a new

experience, and the very novelty added to the effect. He saw his fault,

regretted it, and admired the brave sincerity of the girl in telling him

of it. But he did not know how to deal with the case, and was forced to

confess not only past negligence but present incapacity. He was as

honorable as he was proud, and with an effort he said frankly, "You are

right, Miss Muir. I am to blame, yet as soon as I saw the danger, I

tried to avert it. My visit to town was on Ned's account; he will have

his commission very soon, and then he will be sent out of harm's way.

Can I do more?"




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