“Because the opportunity to wound him deeply--incurably--first presented itself. I knew well that nothing would hurt him like the cool assumption of not recognizing him, and I determined not to lose my vengeance.” “I'm a woman,” said Kate, “and I'd not have stooped to _that!_” It was rarely that Massingbred's emotions gave any evidence of their working; but now his cheek grew crimson, as he said, “A man can only measure a man's indignation.” “You are angry without cause,” said she, calmly; “you wish me to pronounce a verdict on an act, and are displeased because I think differently from you. How right I was in my guess that small animosities were amongst your failings! You seek now to quarrel with _me!_” Massingbred walked along for some moments without speaking, and then said, “You knew Nelligan formerly?” “Yes, we were playfellows together as children; lovers, I believe, a little later on--” “And now?” broke he in. “And now very good friends, as the world uses that phrase. At all events,” added she, after a brief pause, “enough his friend to be able to say that you have wronged him by your suspicions. Joe Nelligan--or I'm much mistaken--may feel the inequality of his position as a something to overcome, a barrier to be surmounted; not as a disability to contest the prizes of life even with such as Mr. Massingbred.” “It is _you_ now would quarrel with _me_,” said Jack, retorting her own words upon her. “And yet,” he added, in a lower tone, “I would wish to have you my friend.” “So you can, upon one condition,” replied she, promptly. “I accept, whatever it be. Name it.” “That you be your own friend; that you address yourself to the business of life seriously and steadily, resolving to employ your abilities as a means of advancement, not as a mere instrument for amusement; determine, in fact, to be something besides a _dilettante_ and an idler.” “Is it a bargain, then, if I do this?” asked he, eagerly. “Yes; I promise you the high and mighty boon of _my_ friendship,” replied she, with mock solemnity. “And so we seal our contract,” said he, pressing her hand to his lips, but with an air of such respectful gallantry that the action implied nothing bordering on a liberty. “And now I leave you,” said she, as she opened the wicket-gate of a small flower-garden; “such conferences as ours must not be repeated, or they might be remarked upon. Good-bye.” And without waiting for his reply, she passed on into the garden, while Massingbred stood gazing after her silently and thoughtfully. CHAPTER XX. AN ELECTION ADDRESS “Am I behind time, Mr. Massingbred?” said Kate Henderson, as she entered the library, about a week after the events we have last recorded,--“am I behind time?” said she, approaching a table where the young man sat surrounded with a mass of letters and papers. “Not very much,” said he, rising, and placing a chair for her; “and I take it for granted you came as soon as you could.”