“Is that fair? You pretend to forgive me, and then bring another accusation against me in the same breath,” protested Annie, who did, indeed, habitually avoid _tête-à-têtes_ with him, but who, as usual, once brought to bay, was perfectly at her ease and able to defend herself. “Well, I thought I had better state all my grievances at once, as I know it will be a long time before you give me another chance. Seriously, it gives me great pain to see you sitting silent in my house or slipping through the rooms like a snubbed and neglected child, only waking up into life and brightness when you are out of sight of--those who are longing to see you happy.” The tears were in her eyes. She was touched by the kindness of his words; but how could she tell him that his own mother and sister cast, by their coldness, a chill upon her from which, in their presence, it was impossible for her to escape? “I will try to be more cheerful,” said she humbly, and rather dismally. “No, that won’t do,” declared George, impatiently. “I don’t want you to pump up liveliness that you don’t feel, or laugh when you feel inclined to cry.” “Then what do you want me to do?” “Well, when anything amuses you, and you look stealthily at William with a perfectly stolid face but a laugh in your eyes, will you look at me, too? I can enjoy a joke as well as he.” “Did you notice that?” said Annie, wonderingly. “Yes; you exaggerate my dullness enormously. Now, will you promise to share the joke with me?” “But William is only a boy. If I were to laugh with you as I do with him, Harry would think himself shunted and be horribly unpleasant, as usual. I don’t mean to say anything against Harry,” she added, hastily. “He is your brother----” “Do you think I feel so tenderly toward him, that I cannot hear a word of truth about him?” said George passionately. “Do you think I cherish any deep affection for the brute who first robbed me of the treasure I would have died to win, and then neglected her, crushed the brightness out of her youth by his boorish ignorance, insulted and disgusted her by his tastes and habits?” Annie was frightened by his vehemence--moved too in spite of herself. He saw this, and seized his advantage. “Annie,” said he, bending down over her with his handsome face full of passionate tenderness, “it is too late now; but didn’t you care for me a little once?” With a long sobbing breath which was almost a cry, Annie bent her head instinctively to hide her face, and, springing away before he could detain her, went back into the drawing-room. Sir George drew himself up again to his full height, and mechanically put his long-since-extinguished cigar to his lips. He was answered. CHAPTER IX.