"Then, if you have leisure to hear me, I will now say, that, before this conversation, I thought I might have been wrong; but I am now fully convinced by the indignation you so openly express, that I have been mistaken in you. I confess that I have injured you in the most ungenerous manner--for which I dare not offer any excuse, since every one would be too light to have any weight. I will then only ask you to be generous enough to forgive me?" Lucy, whose feelings were ever subject to the most sudden variations, burst into tears and ran out of the room, but, as Clair continued regarding the door through which she had made her sudden exit, it opened as quickly as it had closed, and she again entered; holding out her hand, as she walked up to him. "I am glad you are not gone," said she, panting for breath, "because I can tell you I forgive you on condition that you forgive and forget all I said in my passion just now." "It was richly deserved," said Clair, grasping her hand warmly. "But that does not make it the more easy to bear, you know. If it is quite unjust we let it pass as 'the idle wind which we regard not,' but, if it be just, we take it more to heart, and, seriously, I am very sorry for what I said just now." "And I," said Clair, "am very sorry for a great many foolish things I have said and done in the last few weeks." "Well then," cried Lucy, "we are both sorry, so let us be friends, and talk no more about love and all that kind of nonsense. I shall go home in a day or two, and then," said she, with a half sigh, "all I ask is, that you will not think me quite so thoughtless and foolish as you did; or, if you do," she added, smiling quickly, "remember you were as weak and thoughtless as myself." "I will not fail to do so," he answered, returning her smile, "if the remembrance of your present generosity, does not make me forget everything which caused it to be called into exercise." "I have had quite enough of your flattery," said Lucy, holding up her finger, "do not give me another dose, or I shall be obliged to repeat the antidote, and give you another scolding. Come now, I am thinking of the fancy ball, and, as I am determined to be in time for it--for I am of no use to Mabel by staying here--I shall choose my character at once. Here," handing him a book of Byron's beauties, "choose me the one you think would suit me best." "Let me venture to suggest," replied Clair, as he took the book and turned over the leaves thoughtfully, "that leaving such a house as this, it would scarcely be right for you, to appear at a fancy ball at all." "Oh, you methodist! give me the book."