“Then I must go,” said Fan, scarcely able to keep back the tears that were gathering thick in her eyes. “But I am so sorry--so sorry! I wish--I wish you could think differently about it and forgive me if I have offended you.” “There is nothing to be gained by prolonging this conversation, which is not pleasant to me,” returned the other haughtily, advancing to the bell to summon the servant. “Wait one moment--please don't ring yet,” cried Fan, hurrying forward, the tears now starting from her eyes. “Oh, Mary, will you not shake hands with me before I go?” Miss Starbrow moved back a step or two and stared deliberately at her face, as if amazed and angered beyond measure at her persistence. And for some moments they stood thus, not three feet apart, gazing into each other's eyes, Fan's tearful, full of eloquent pleading, her hands still held out; and still the other delayed to speak the cutting words that trembled on her lips. A change came over her scornful countenance; the corners of her mouth twitched nervously, as if some sharp pang had touched her heart; the dark eyes grew misty, and in another moment Fan was clasped to her breast. “Oh, Fan!--dearest Fan!--darling--you have beaten me again!” she exclaimed spasmodically, half-sobbing. “Oh what a strange girl you are! ... To come and--take me by storm like that! ... And I was so determined never to relent--never to go back from what I said.... But you have swept it all away--all my resolutions--everything. Oh, Fan, can you ever, ever forgive me for being such a brute? But I had to act in that way--there was no help for it. I couldn't break my word--I never do. You know, Fan, that I never change.... Is it really you?--oh, I can't believe it--I can't realise it--here in my own house! Let me look at your dear face again.” And drawing back their heads they gazed into each other's faces once more, Fan crying and laughing by turns, while Mary, the strong woman, could do nothing but cry now. “The same dear grey eyes, but oh, how beautiful you have grown,” she went on. “I shall never forgive myself--never cease to hate myself after this. And yet, dearest, what could I do? I had solemnly vowed never to speak to you again if we met. I should have been a poor weak creature if I hadn't--you must know that. And now--oh, how could I resist so long, and be so cruel? I know I'm very illogical, but--I hate it, there!--I mean logic--don't you?” “I hardly know what it is, Mary, but if you hate it, so do I with all my heart.”