"Well, well," he continued at length, "I saw her often. I could not strangle my feelings. I loved her--in spite of her wealth--not on account of it. But gradually my sentiment moderated: like a whip of scorpions, this suspicion she felt struck me, wounding my heart and inflaming my pride. I tried to stay away; I dragged through life for a week without seeing her; then, impelled by a violent impulse, I went to her again, armed with an impassible pride, and determined to converse upon the most indifferent subjects--to test her nature fully, and--to make the test complete--bend all the energies of my mind to the task of weighing her words, her looks, her tones, that I might make a final decision. Well, she almost distinctly intimated, fifteen minutes after our interview commenced, that I was a fortune-hunter whom she regarded with a mixture of amusement and contempt." "Oh, sir! could it have been that you----" The boy stopped. "How unhappy she must be--to have to suspect such noble natures as your own," he added in a low voice. Mowbray turned away his head; then by a powerful effort went on. "You shall judge, Charles," he said in a voice which he mastered only by a struggle; "you shall say whether I am correct in my opinion of her thoughts. She asked me plainly if I was poor; to which question I replied with a single word--'Very.' Next, did I hope to become rich! I did hope so. Her advice then was, she said, that I should marry some heiress, since that was a surer and more rapid means than law or politics. She said it very satirically, and with a glance which killed my love----" "Oh, sir!" the boy murmured. "Yes; and though I was calm, my face not paler, I believe, than usual, I was led to say what I bitterly regret--not because it was untrue, for it was not, rather was it profoundly true--but because it might have been misunderstood. It was disgraceful to marry for mere wealth, I said; and I added, 'too expensive'--since unhappiness at any price was dear. I added that money would never purchase my own heart--school-boy fashion, you perceive; and then I left her--never to return." A long silence followed these words. Mowbray then added calmly: "You deduce from this narrative, Charles, one lesson. Never give your affections to a woman suddenly; never make a young girl whom you do not know the queen of your heart--the fountain of your illusions and your dreams. The waking will be unpleasant; pray Heaven you may never wake as I have with a mind which is becoming sour--a heart which is learning to distrust whatever is most fair in human nature. Let us dismiss the subject now. I am glad I felt this impulse to open my heart to you, a stranger, though a friend. We often whisper into a strange ear what our closest friends would ask in vain. See, there is his Excellency's chariot with its six white horses, and look what a graceful bow he makes us!" Mowbray walked on without betraying the least evidence of emotion. He seemed perfectly calm.