"John! Mr Lister! You hurt my wrist." "You do not answer me," he cried, his voice growing more hoarse and intense, while I stood there with my heart palpitating, feeling as if I ought to run to Miss Carr's help. "I will not answer such a question," she said angrily; "but I will tell you this: that I have looked upon myself as your betrothed wife; do not make me think upon our engagement with regret." "Forgive me, Miriam, pray forgive me," he said in a low, pleading voice. "It is my wretched temper that has got the better of me. Say you forgive me, Miriam, or I shall be ready to make an end of myself. There, there, don't take away this little hand." "Leave me now, I beg of you," she said in a low, pained voice. "Yes, directly, sweet," he whispered; "but let there be an end of this, my darling. Say--in a month's time--you will be my wife, and then I shall know I am forgiven." "I forgive you your cruel, passionate words, John," she said, in such a tone that I began once more to look out of the window, wondering whether Mrs John Lister would be as kind to me as Miss Carr. "And, in a month to-day, you will make me a happy man?" "I cannot promise that," she said after a pause. "Yes, yes, you can, dearest--my own love!" he cried; and I felt now as if I should like to open the window and step out on the balcony. "No, I cannot promise that, John," she repeated. "You must--we must wait." "Then it is as I say," he cried, evidently springing up from her feet, and stamping up and down the room. "You are a cruel, cold, heartless girl, and I'll come begging and pleading no more. Our engagement holds good," he said bitterly; "and you shall name the day yourself, and we shall be a happy pair, unless I have blown out my brains before we're wed." I heard the little drawing-room door close loudly, descending steps, and then the front door shut almost with a bang, and from where I stood I saw Mr Lister, looking very handsome and well dressed, with a bouquet in his button-hole, stride hastily down the street, cutting at imaginary obstacles with his cane, and as he turned the corner I heard from the next room a low moan, and Miss Carr's voice, saying: "God help and teach me! I am a wretched woman! How shall I act?" CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. I TAKE THE NEWS TO MY FRIENDS. "Wretched!" I thought, "in the midst of wealth, and loved by that passionate, handsome man." Then I recalled how I had often heard of lovers' quarrels, and supposed that this was one that would soon be made up. I felt very uncomfortable, and wondered what I ought to do. There was a deep silence in the next room that became painful, and I wondered whether Miss Carr had gone; but directly after I heard such a low bitter sobbing that it went to my heart, and, unable to bear it longer, I went to the door, looked in, and saw her half-lying on the couch, with her face buried in the pillow, weeping bitterly.