“Yes, indeed, Tom, there is much for me to say. Do sit down.” He saw that she was trembling, and thought it best to go at once to the point. “Never had man such a kind little cousin as I have; but, of course, it must not be. I should never respect myself again if I did not meet and discharge my liabilities, as other men do. I know you are your father’s man of business, Tom dear, so I hand you this cheque, due to-day, as well as the deed. And I think you had better kiss me, and let us feel that we are now and always the best of friends.” “John, do have it. I shall feel so bad if you will not. And father will like to do it just as much as I. He does not need this cheque. If you should become a rich man some day you can make it all right then; but for the present do let it be as if this had never been. There, it is a good thing that I have not to parse that last sentence, isn’t it?” “Tom, my mother sends her love; and will you all come and spend the day with us to-morrow?” “No, John, I will do nothing until you put back that letter into your pocket.” “It will be a hard experience for you, my little cousin, to do nothing for the rest of your natural life.” At this juncture, I am sorry to say that Tom Whitwell disgraced herself by beginning to cry, and John Dallington was genuinely distressed. “Oh! pray don’t do that, Tom. Try to be your own sensible self. Why, you would never respect me again if I did this thing; and I should be sorry indeed to forfeit your good opinion. Try to look at this matter from a man’s point of view, dear. Your kindness to me has blinded you; but suppose I were William Hunter instead of John Dallington, what would you think? I shall get over my difficulties. They are not unusual ones, and I am strong enough to cope with them. I shall buy back this paper which you so generously wish to give me, and that will be so much the better for us all round. Tom, do tell me that you think as I do!” Tom’s eyes, usually so merry, were suffused when she lifted them to his face, and his mother’s suggestion flashed into his mind. He was sure that Tom only cared for him as a cousin, and yet if he could have taken her into his arms, and told her that he loved her, he could see that it would be an easy way out of the difficulty; and what good news it would be to take home to his mother. And Tom could be made to care for him in time, he really felt sure of that. Dear little Tom, she looked very limp at that minute, and she was hating herself heartily, too. She struggled bravely for a moment or two, and then conquered her weakness. “I am a nice cheerful fellow for Christmas Day,” she said. “Excuse me, John, I am miserably disappointed; I think you might give in, and let father and me have a little pleasure for once. But you are so wilful. Come and look at this picture. My sister Clara painted it, and gave it to father this morning. He is very pleased with it, and Clara is really clever.”