Bram leaped up from his chair. All the fury in his eyes seemed now to be concentrated upon her. “You pitied him! You were sorry for him! For a black-hearted rascal like that!” “Oh, Bram, Bram, don’t you know that those are only words! When you see a man you’ve always liked, been fond of, who has always been happy and bright, and full of fun and liveliness, quite suddenly changed, and broken down, and wretched, you don’t stop to ask yourself whether he’s a good man or a bad one. Now, do you, Bram?” “You ought to!” rejoined Bram in fierce Puritanism militant. “You ought to have used your chance of showing him what a wicked thing he was doing to his poor wife as well as you!” “Oh, Bram, I did. I said what I could!” “Not half enough, I’ll warrant!” retorted he, clenching his fist. “You didn’t tell him he was a blackguard who ought to be kicked from one end of the county to the other! And that you’d never speak to him again as long as you lived!” “No, I certainly didn’t.” “Then,” almost shouted Bram, bringing his fist down on the table with a threatening, sounding thump, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself! You good women do as much harm as the bad ones, for you are just as tender and sweet to men when they do wrong as when they do right. You encourage them in their wicked ways, when you should be stand-off and proud. I do believe, God forgive me for saying so, you care more for Mr. Chris now than you did before!” Claire, who was very white, waited a moment when he had come to the end of his accusation. Then she said in a weak, timid, little voice, but with steadiness-- “It is true, I believe, that I like him better than I did before. You are too hard, Bram; you make no allowance for anything.” “There are some things no allowance should be made for.” “Well, there’s one thing you forget, and that is that I’ve not been used to good people, so that I am not so hard as you are. I’ve never known a good man except you, Bram, but then I’ve never known one so severe upon others either.” “You shouldn’t say that, Miss Claire; I’m not hard.” “Oh!” “Or if I am, it’s only so as I shouldn’t be too soft!” cried he, suddenly breaking down into gentleness, and forgetting his grammar at the same time. “It’s only because you’ve got nobody to take care of you, nobody to keep harm away from you, that I want you to be harder yourself!” There was a pause. Claire was evidently touched by his solicitude. Presently she spoke, persuasively, affectionately, but with caution. “Bram, if I promise to be hard, very hard, will you give me a promise back?” “What’s that?” “Will you promise me that you will forget”--Bram shook his head, and at once began a fierce, angry protest--“well, that you will say nothing about this. Come, you are bound in honor, because I told you in confidence----” “No, you didn’t; I found out!”