"You do not speak to me; you cannot forgive me that I have not borne my love and sorrow in silence until it killed me. Ah, see what love must mine be to make me to speak to you, to make me kneel to you, asking for my life, my life!" and as she uttered the words her head dropped on my arm, and her wealth of golden-brown hair fell over me. God knows I would have given worlds to have rushed away. Never was man more unwillingly drawn into an embarrassing situation. And that very day Agatha had promised to be my wife. It was high time I said something. Gently as my patience and embarrassment would allow me, I raised the girl. "Coralie," I said, gravely, "you are not yourself, I am sure." "It is for my life," she said. "I am asking for my life!" "You are easily excited and impulsive," I said; "that music has bewildered you. I do love you, Coralie; so does Clare. You are our kinswoman and our charge. How can we help loving you?" "Ah, me!" she moaned, "you will not understand; it is not that love, Edgar. I want to pass my life by your side. I want your joys to be mine--your sorrows to be mine, darling; I want to share your interests. Will you not understand?" "I do understand, Coralie. All the love of my heart is given--gone from me. Only this day I asked Miss Thesiger to be my wife, and she consented. All my love, my faith, my loyalty are hers." I shall never forget how that fair woman rose and looked at me. The love-light and the mist of tears died from her eyes. All the lovely color faded from her face. "You have slain me; you have given me, my death-blow!" "Nay, Coralie; you are too sensible and brave." She waved her hand with a gesture commanding silence. "Do not seek to comfort me," she said. "You cannot. I have humiliated myself in vain. I have shown the depth of my heart, the very secrets of my soul, only that you may laugh at me with your fair-faced Agatha." "Hush, Coralie; you have no right to say such things; what you have just said will never pass my lips. I shall not even think of it. You cannot suspect me of the meanness to talk to Miss Thesiger of anything of the kind." She looked at me with a dazed face, as though she could barely grasp my meaning. "Tell me it again," she said. "I cannot believe it." "Listen, Coralie: I love Agatha Thesiger with all my heart, and hope very soon to make her my wife. I love her so dearly that I have no room in my heart for even a thought of any other woman." Her face grew ghastly in its pallor. "That is sufficient," she said; "now I understand." "We will both forget what has been said tonight, Coralie; we will never think of it, but for the future be good cousins and good friends." "No," she said, proudly; "there can be no friendship between us." "You will think better of it; believe me, you have no truer friends than Clare and myself."