"But you must let me speak," he said, "because I see you mistake. I don't want you to think because--I confess it--her beauty has a great fascination for me that I can forget myself, that I--it was like admiring a beautiful living picture." She moved nearer, involuntarily. "Poor fellow!" she said under her breath, "you have been brave; you are brave, very brave. I've seen it." Then, after a pause in which she retreated a little and stood considering deeply, she said, "I will tell you something; it would be too much to be spoken of, only that you don't understand why I did this thing about the business. Think how I am placed. I may be standing between my dear friend and the man who was to have been her husband, and separating them forever. That night when I came home from your father's I realized it more than ever before; it filled me so that I could not bear the thought of life. I happened to have something by me, and I--almost took it. I should have slipped away from between you two, I was so bent upon doing it,--only, the warning saved me from such a sin. It will never be again," she added as she saw his eyes dilate with questioning horror. "That temptation has gone. I have accepted my lot, for it was permitted to come, or even that wicked man could not have brought it. But now, think, think how I must long to do some little thing, not to atone, that's impossible, but to make life not quite so hard to you, and to her. Now, this has come for you. Take it, I entreat you. Some day I may be able to help her in some way; I think it will be so." He looked into her eyes as she raised them to his. "But you didn't mean to--do all this, if it is done," he said. "There's no need of talking about atoning, as if you were guilty of anything." "But, then, I ought to have refused; it was my place. It would have saved everything." "You wanted to," he said, "and you yielded to oblige Katie." She looked relieved at his answer. It surprised him; he wondered that he had remembered her hesitation. "You will do this thing?" she persisted. "You see it is your duty." "Do you know the reason you are so anxious to have me do it?" he asked, the momentary softening of his face gone. "It's out of no love for Katie, or friendliness to me." "No," she said to his last statement, and added, "Yes, I know; I've seen it." "What is it?" "I suppose," she said, humbly, "that it's my pride. "Yes," he cried, "that's what it is--your pride. Well, I have my pride, too. I'll take your money, when you love me--when it's the gift of your love, as I said--no sooner; I shall have to do without it this year, I'm afraid."