"And your selfishness, Maria, what of it?" "I was not selfish at all. I knew nothing about it. If I had received the note, I should not have answered it in any way." "Are you sure of that?" "Absolutely sure. It angered me, humiliated me, wronged me beyond words. And to have it read in the Police Court! How would you feel, Agnes? It has ruined my life." "Poor Harry!" "Oh, but poor Maria! All this misery was brought to me without my knowledge and without any desert on my part. And don't you suppose I love my grandparents and Uncle Neil? Think what I have suffered when I saw them dragged to prison, tried, fined and disgraced, and all for a scribble of presumptuous words that Harry Bradley ought to have been ashamed to write. It was very thoughtless, it was very cruel." "Harry suffered for his presumption; and as for the fine, my father will repay it to your grandfather. He said so this morning; said it would only be just; and I think so, too." "The fine is the least part of the wrong. Who can repay grandfather and uncle for the loss of their good name and their honorable record? Who can give uncle his business back again? These are wrongs that cannot be put right with money. You know that, Agnes." "Do not quarrel with me, Maria. I am not able to bear your reproaches. Let us at least be thankful that Harry's life is spared. When the war is over you may yet be happy together." Then Maria burst into passionate weeping. "You know nothing Agnes! You know nothing!" she cried. "I can never see Harry again! Never, never! Not even if he was in this house, _now_. How do you suppose he was saved?" "Father has a great deal of influence, and he used it." Her calm, sad face, with its settled conviction of her father's power, irritated Maria almost beyond endurance. For a moment she thought she would tell her the truth, and then that proud, "not-caring," never far away from a noble nature stayed such a petty retaliation. She dried her eyes, wrapped her cloak around her, and said she "must not stop longer; there was trouble and sorrow at home and she was needed." Agnes did not urge her to remain, yet she could not bear her to leave in a mood so unfriendly, and so despairing. "Forgive me, dear Maria," she whispered. "I have been wrong and perhaps unkind. I fear you are right in blaming me. Forgive me! I cannot part in such misunderstanding. If you knew all----" "Oh, yes! And if you knew all." "But forgive me! God knows I have suffered for my fault." "And I also." "Put your arms around my neck and kiss me. I cannot let you go feeling so unkindly to me. Do you hear, little one? I am sorry, indeed I am. Maria! Maria!"