She was a little bewildered, but she retorted, curtly: “You began it yourself, sir, remember. You said it was a cruel and inexcusable outrage, and I agreed with you with all my heart.” “But, Aunt Drusilla, you misunderstood me,” he replied. “I did not mean to throw a reflection on the memory of my mother. She was a good woman, and she was not envious of Nina’s fortune. She was only solicitous over the child’s future, and anxious to leave her in the care of one whom she knew and trusted. She told me that it was Mr. Selwyn’s cherished wish that Nina should some day become my wife; so I weakly yielded to her wishes, but, oh, what a terrible mistake we all made in the consummation of that ill-starred marriage!” he added, in deep agitation. Miss Strangemore gave him a scathing glance over the tops of her gold-bowed eye glasses. “I begin to understand you, Talbot Strangemore,” she said, frigidly. “You do not mean that a wicked and inexcusable outrage was committed on Mr. Selwyn’s daughter in making her your wife, but that you were the one wronged, in being made her husband.” He flinched when she put the real meaning of his words before him in her cold, matter-of-fact way, and grew crimson again. “Perhaps I should not have said that,” he answered. “I--I did not mean to put it in such an offensive way. I did not mean to say one word of what I _have_ said; but somehow, sitting here all alone, my nerves were unstrung by my thoughts, and I spoke out what was in my heart. I was a fool for my pains, for nothing can undo the folly of five years ago, least of all mere empty words.” “I gather from your talk that you regret your marriage. Indeed, I surmised as much long ago, from your shameful neglect of your wife!” said Miss Drusilla, sharply. “Neglect?” he echoed, a little blankly. “Yes,” she replied, “Have you not stayed away from her five long years?” “I know that,” he replied. “But I did not intend it for neglect. It was originally planned that I should stay three years, you know, and--somehow--they lengthened into five. I will tell you the truth, Aunt Drusilla. There were reasons why I could not bear to come. But, after all, you cannot call it neglect, for Nina was only a child--too young to be my wife yet, only in name.” “Too young--she is in her nineteenth year,” said the old maid, tartly. “And let me tell you, young man, your mother was a married woman and you were born before she was as old as Nina is now!” He gave a gasp as if she had thrown cold water over him. “Nina in her nineteenth year!” he exclaimed, “she is a woman then, how strange it seems! Do you know, Aunt Drusilla, that I have gone on all these years thinking of Nina just as the child I left behind me!” “She is greatly altered. You would not know her again,” said Miss Strangemore, thinking of the many charms of beautiful Nina. But her nephew only groaned: “So much the worse. I used to like the child quite well. Perhaps it may be different now!”