Bennet had spoken well, and with a rough sincerity which the girl could not but feel. She tried to stop him, but he would not be stopped. As he had gone on, her face had paled and her eyes had grown full of trouble and distress. She now blamed herself for not putting her second piece of news before the other. Trouble and distress also showed themselves in the agitation with which she replied to him. "Harry, I'm so sorry. What you ask is impossible!" "Impossible! You don't mean it, Kitty, surely," exclaimed Bennet. "Oh, say you don't mean it!" He was so cocksure of himself and of her that he could not believe she was in earnest. His self-confidence was so great that it blinded him, otherwise he must have seen that she had no such answer to give him as he wished. "Yes, it is impossible," she said, quietly and firmly. "I am very sorry to pain you, Harry, very sorry indeed; you may be quite sure of that." The young man's eyes filled with an angry light while the hot colour flushed his cheeks. "It is your love I want, not your sorrow," he said roughly. "That I cannot give you," said Kitty. "Wait a moment, Harry. A few minutes ago you asked me if I had any news. Well, I did not tell you all the news. There was one piece of news I felt a certain reticence about. I wish now I had mentioned it to you. For, if I had done so you would not have said--what you have said. It is that I am engaged to be married." "Oh, Kitty!" cried Bennet, in a voice that seemed to ask her how she dared become engaged to any one but himself. "You are engaged! This is news indeed ... I wish I had known ... engaged!" And Bennet, who was not able to contain his rage and mortification, glowered at the girl, as these words came brokenly from him. Then he looked at her for some seconds in silence, and his look was not pleasant. "I am sorry," said Kitty once more, but her accent was cold. She thought he was not behaving prettily, and that it was time for him to go. "May I ask who is the lucky man?" he inquired, his face dark with wrath; but in his heart he had already guessed that Gilbert Eversleigh was his successful rival. "I do not know that you have any right to address me as you are doing," said Kitty with dignity. "You asked a question and you have had your answer." But as she looked at Bennet she relented a little. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Harry," she went on, "but there is nothing more to be said." "I suppose it is Gilbert," said Bennet. Kitty nodded assent. Bennet gazed at her gloomily; there was something threatening in the black gleams he shot at her. "Have you no good wishes for me?" she asked, making an effort to remind him that he should at least try to play the part of a gentleman. But Bennet only glared at her speechlessly. At length, muttering some words so incoherently that the girl could not catch them, he turned and left the room abruptly.