“You did!” again exclaimed Arthur, flushing with wrath. “You have behaved like a fool or a villain,--one or both, I care not which. You should have known, without my telling, that these books are sacred. If the girl knows German let her read old Gotsched’s plays. She shall not see a page of any book of mine.” Winnington continued silent under this outbreak; he was partly overcome with surprise; but grief was uppermost. “I’ve known you for two years, I think, Hayning,” he said; “from the first time we met I admired and liked you. I acknowledge your superiority in everything; your energy, your talent, your acquirements. I felt a pleasure in measuring your height, and was proud to be your friend. I know you despise me, for I am a weak, impulsive, womanly-natured fellow;--but I did not know you disliked me. I shall leave you to-morrow, and we shall never meet again.” He was going out of the room. “I did not mean what I said,” said Arthur, in a subdued voice. “I don’t despise you. I don’t dislike you. I beg your pardon,--will you forgive me, Winnington?” “Ay, if you killed me!” sobbed Winnington, taking hold of Arthur’s scarcely extended hand. “I know I am very foolish; but I love Ellen Warleigh, and would give her all I have in the world.” “That’s not much,” said Arthur, still moodily brooding over the incident; “and never will be, if you wear your heart so perpetually on your sleeve.” “You forget that I don’t need to have any riches of my own,” said Winnington, gaily. “I am to be physician to the Prince and Princess in Aladdin’s palace, and shall sit always on your right hand when you entertain the nobility. So, shake hands, and good night.” “But Ellen is not to have my books,” said Arthur, sitting down to the table, and spreading a volume before him. “I wouldn’t lend you for an hour,” he said, when he was alone, cherishing the book, “no, not to Lucy Mainfield herself.” CHAPTER II.