"And I am grieved that it should ever be come to. It will cut me to the quick, I tell you plainly. When poor Dick lay on his deathbed I gave him my word that while I had a crust his boy should not want, and that I would do my best to make up to him for that stroke of ill-fortune which was about to rob him of a father's love and care. It was a promise which, as far as the exigencies and circumstances of my life would allow, I have striven to fulfil to the best of my ability. That life--my life--is a very lonely one, how lonely you cannot conceive, and in the course of time my dead friend's son has grown very dear to me. Yet now, Miss Baynard, you would come between us (how cruel in some things is your sex!) and would deprive me of him." "You misapprehend my intentions, Mr. Dare. I have no wish to come between you and the boy in any way. You will have full freedom to visit him as often as you wish. All I say is, that henceforth all charges in connection with him must be defrayed by me." Dare got up abruptly, crossed to the window, stared out of it for a few moments, and then went back to his seat. "Look here, Miss Baynard," he said, "why should not you and I come to a compromise in this matter, as one finds it advisable to do in so many of the affairs of life? Suppose we share the expense--'tis a mere bagatelle after all. Come, now, what say you?" Miss Baynard shook her head. "It cannot be, Mr. Dare. On this point my mind is finally made up. I am very sorry if my telling you so causes you any pain or annoyance, but there is no help for it. My action is based on reasons which I do not feel at liberty to explain. Your goodness in the past will never be forgotten by me, and I trust----" "Not a syllable more, I beg," said Dare, with a queer little break in his voice. "My 'goodness,' forsooth! Revile me, strike me, but never fling that word at me again as applicable to anything between me and my dead friend! But I will urge you no longer. You tell me your mind is made up, in which case there is nothing more to be said or done." CHAPTER XIII. LOVE THE CONQUEROR. Although Dare had not succeeded in persuading Miss Baynard to reverse or modify the decision she had come to in the case of her cousin's child, and although he was at no pains to hide his chagrin and disappointment, he and she did not fail to part as good friends are in the habit of parting. Neither of them had any wish to part otherwise, and it would have been hard to say which of them would have been the more sorry to do so; indeed, Nell was unwilling to say goodbye till she had obtained from him an address--that of a lawyer--to which she could write in case she should have occasion to communicate with him about the boy. Both of them put the selfsame question to themselves within five minutes of their parting: "When and where, if ever, shall we meet again?"