“But consider,” said Muriel, quietly. “If that morning Emily had given you the flowers, the gift would have gone far to reconcile you to her. Would it not?” “It would,” cried Wentworth, vehemently. “One little act of kindness from her to me at that time, would have made me forget all her former slights, and try to win her to me again. But, Muriel, why dwell on this? It was her intention to trifle with me from the first. Come, I must not talk of her. Let it all go. It amounts to nothing.” “It amounts to just this,” she replied, coolly. “That Mr. Witherlee was interested in your affairs to the extent of making fresh dissension between you and Emily, and that he widened a breach already made. Now do you imagine his interest extended no further than that moment? But, Richard, tell me frankly, how did your difference with Emily arise!” “Muriel,” he replied solemnly, “as Heaven is my witness, I do not know. I never did anything to cause it. I left her here one afternoon, and I was happy, for though I thought she loved me before, I was never sure of it till then, when we met in the first embrace, the first kiss, and the last, she ever gave me. Witherlee appeared at the parlor door, and retreated again for a minute or so. Then you came into the parlor from the conservatory, and he entered at the same moment. You will recollect that afternoon—you brought in a bunch of flowers, and as he came in you held out the bouquet to him, which he took from your hand. Do you remember?” Muriel nodded. “Well,” continued Wentworth, “I felt a little abashed at Witherlee’s entrance, for I thought he had seen us, and in fact, it was so awkward for me, that I took my leave in a few minutes.” “And that evening—I remember it well”—interrupted Muriel, “he and Emily talked together in a corner the whole time, while mother and I were busy with a roomful of guests.” “Did they!” said Wentworth, coldly, seeing nothing in the circumstance worthy of notice. “Well, Muriel,” he continued, after a moment’s consideration, “I called the next morning to see Emily, happy as I could be, and full of love for her, and she met me with such chilling hauteur that I was frozen. It was like an ice-bath. I felt piqued and hurt, and though I thought it only a passing freak, I could not help being cool to her. Indeed, her manner prevented anything but coolness. I thought, however, it would pass over. But the next day it was the same, and the next and the next. I am proud, Muriel, and I was innocent of any fault. Could I do less, and keep my self-respect, than remain cool to a lady who was treating me so? Meanwhile, I saw her attentions to Harrington, and I made up my mind that she had trifled with me for her amusement. So it went on, till last night when she heaped contumely on me, and I repaid her with the speech you heard. There. I did not mean to speak of this, but you have led me on. Now I am quits with her.” There was a moment’s silence, and then Wentworth resumed: