"I do know you better, my own, my beautiful darling," he cried passionately; "but you drive me nearly mad. We have been engaged now so many weary months, and yet I seem to occupy no warmer position in your heart than when I first met you. It is dreadful!" I heard him get up and walk about the room, while she sat perfectly silent. "You rebuff me," he cried angrily. "You are cold and distant; my every advance is met by some chilly look. Good heavens! Miriam, are we engaged to be man and wife, or not?" "You are unjust, John, in your anger," said Miss Carr in her low, sweet voice. "I do not rebuff you, and I am never intentionally cold. Indeed, I try to meet you as the man who is to be my husband." "And lover?" he said, with an almost imperceptible sneer. "As my husband," she said quietly; "a holier, greater title far than that of lover. We are not girl and boy, John Lister, and I do not think that you would love and respect me the more for acting like some weak, silly school-girl, who does not know her own mind." "She would at least be warmer in her love." "But not nearly so lasting," said Miss Carr, in a low, almost pathetic voice. "I look upon our engagement as so sacred a thing that I think we ought not to hurry on our marriage as you wish. Besides, was it not understood that we should wait awhile?" "Yes; that was when some tattling fool told you about my losses over that race, and I suppose made out that I was in a hurry to win the heiress, so as to make ducks and drakes of her money." "You hurt me," she said softly; "no one ever hinted at such a degrading idea." "Just when a fellow had gone into the thing for once in a way. Of course I was unlucky, and a good job too. If I had won I might have been tempted to try again. Now I have done with racing and betting and the rest of it for ever." "I had not thought of that affair, John, when I spoke as I did. I promised you I would forget it, and I had forgotten it, believe me." "Oh yes, of course," he said bitterly. "I am speaking frankly and openly to you, John," continued Miss Carr gently; "and I want you to think as I do, that, in taking so grave a step as that which joins two people together for life, it should be taken only as one makes a step from which there is no recall." "Miriam!" he exclaimed, and he seemed to stop short in front of her, "I am a hot, impetuous fellow, and I love you passionately, as you know, and have known since the day when first we met. Have I ever given up the pursuit?" "No," she said, half-laughingly. "You did not let me rest, nor did our friends, until we were engaged." "Of course not. There, come now, you look more like your own dear self. I want to ask you a question." "Yes, John. What is it?" He cleared his voice and hesitated, but only to speak out firmly at last. "Do you think--have you ever thought me such a cur that I wanted you for the sake of your money?"