“Well, I know that, but he’s a rascal all the same,” said Bram bluntly. “And Mr. Christian knows it, and he had ought to be glad to have the chance of taking you away, and making you happier. He’s behaved like a fool, too, for the girl his father’s found for him will never get on with him, never make him happy, like you would have done, Miss Claire. He is just made a rod for his own back, and it serves him jolly well right!” Claire did not interrupt him; she was crying quietly, every tear she let fall increasing Bram’s rage, and throwing fuel on the fire of his indignation. Perhaps his anger soothed her a little, for it was in a very subdued little voice that she presently said-- “Oh, Bram, I don’t think that! I do wish him to be happy! Indeed, indeed I do. And if it wasn’t for one thing I should be very, very glad he’s going to marry somebody else--very, very glad, really!” Bram had come a little nearer to her; he spoke earnestly, tenderly, with a voice that trembled. “You’re fond of him?” said he, quickly, imperiously. “Yes, I’m very fond of him. He’s my cousin, and he’s always been kind to me. But I didn’t want to marry him. Oh, I didn’t want to marry him!” Bram was astonished, incredulous. He spoke brusquely, almost harshly. “He thought you did. He thought you cared for him. So did I, so did everybody.” “Yes. I know that. He’s so popular that people take it for granted one must care for him. But I didn’t--in the way you mean.” Bram was still dubious. “Then, why,” said he suddenly, “do you take this so much to heart?” Claire made a valiant attempt to dry her eyes and steady her voice. “Because,” said she in a hesitating voice, “because of--of--because of papa! He wanted me to marry him; he counted on it; and now--oh, dear, I don’t know what he will do, what he will say. Well, it can’t be helped. I must go back; I must go home. Good-bye; good-night!” Before Bram could do more than babble out “Good-night, Miss Claire,” she had flown like the wind down the hill towards the farm. Bram went back to his lodging in a sort of delirium. Was it possible that Claire had spoken the truth to him? That she really cared not a straw for her cousin except in a cousinly way; that all she was troubled about was her father’s displeasure at having missed such a chance of a connection with the family of the long purse.