"You must not speak to me in that way and in that tone," he began impetuously, and then paused, for he was chilled by her cold, questioning gaze. Her will was so strong, and found such powerful expression in her dark, sad eyes, that for a moment he was dumb and embarrassed. Then his own high spirit rallied, and a purpose grew strong that she should hear him, and hear the truth also. His gray eyes, that had wavered for a moment, grew steady in their encounter with hers. Seating himself on the opposite side of the table, he said quietly, "You think I have no right to speak to you in such a way." "I fear we think differently on many subjects, Mr. Clancy." "Admitting that, would you like a man to be a weak echo of yourself?" "A man should not be weak in any respect. I do not think it necessary, however, to raise the question of my likes or dislikes." "I must differ with you, Mara," he replied gravely. "I agree with you now, fully, Mr. Clancy. We differ. Had we not better change the subject?" "No, not unless you would be unfair. I am at a disadvantage. I am in your home. You are a lady, and therefore can compel me to leave unsaid what I am bent on saying. We have been friends, have we not?" She bowed her acquiescence. "Well," he continued a little bitterly, "I have one Southern trait left--frankness. You know I would speak in a different character if permitted, if I received one particle of encouragement." Then, with a sudden flush, he said firmly, "I will speak as I feel. I only pay homage in telling you what you must already know. I love you, and would make you my wife." Her face became very pale as she averted it, and replied briefly, "You are mistaken, Mr. Clancy." "Mara, I am not mistaken. Will you be fair enough to listen to me? We agree that we differ. Can we not also agree that we differ conscientiously? You cannot think me false, even though you say I am mistaken. Hitherto you have opposed to me a dead wall of silence. Though you will not listen to me as a lover, you might both listen and speak to me as a friend. That word would be hollow indeed if estrangment could result from honest differences of opinion." "It is far more than a difference of opinion." "Let the difference be what it may, Mara," he answered gently, resolving not to be baffled, "if you are so sure you are right, you should at least be willing to accord to one whom you once regarded as a friend the privilege of pleading his cause. Truth and right do not intrench themselves in repelling silence. That is the refuge of prejudice. If you will hear my side of the question, I will listen with the deepest interest to yours, and believe me you have a powerful ally in my heart." "Your head has gained such ascendency over your heart, Mr. Clancy, that you cannot understand me. In some women the strongest reasons for or against a thing proceed from the latter organ." "Is yours, then, so cold toward me?" he asked sadly.