Such simple words, and yet to him like the death-knell of all his hope in life. VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER EIGHT. CROSSED IN LOVE. "Oh, Mr Bayle, I am so sorry!" He looked piteously in the handsome pale young face before him, his heart sinking, and a feeling of misery, such as he had never before known, chilling him so that he strove in vain to speak. The words were not cruel, they were not marked with scorn or contempt. There was no coquetry--no hope. They were spoken in a voice full of gentle sympathy, and there was tender pity in every tone, and yet they chilled him to the heart. "Oh, Mr Bayle, I am so sorry!" It needed no look to endorse those words, and yet it was there, beaming upon him from those sweet, frank eyes that had filled again with tears which she did not passionately dash aside, but which brimmed and softly dropped upon the hands she clasped across her breast. He saw plainly enough that it had all been a dream, his dream of love and joy; that he had been too young to read a woman's heart aright, and that he had taken her little frank kindnesses as responses to his love; and he needed no explanations, for the tones in which she uttered those words crushed him, till as he stood before her in those painful moments, he realised that the deathblow to all his hopes had come. He sank back in his chair as she stood before him, gazing up at her in so boyish and piteous a manner that she spoke again. "Indeed, indeed, Mr Bayle, I thought our intimacy so pleasant, I was so happy with you." "Then I may hope," he cried passionately. "Millicent, dear Millicent, all my life has been spent in study; I have read so little, I never thought of love till I saw you, but it has grown upon me till I can think only of you--your words, the tones of your voice, your face, all are with me always, with me now. Millicent, dear Millicent, it is a man's first true love, and you could give me hope." "Oh, hush! hush!" she said gently, as she held out her hand to him, which he seized and covered with his kisses, till she withdrew it firmly, and shook her head. "I am more pained than I can say," she said softly. "I tell you I never thought of such a thing as this." "But you will," he said, "Millicent, my love!" "Mr Bayle," she said, with some attempt at firmness, "if I have ever by my thoughtlessness made you think I cared for you, otherwise than as a very great friend, forgive me." "A friend!" he cried bitterly. "Yes, as a friend. Is friendship so slight a thing that you speak of it like that?" "Yes," he cried; "at a time like this, when I ask for bread and you give me a stone." "Oh, hush!" she said again softly; and there was a sad smile through her tears. "I should be cruel if I did not speak to you plainly and firmly. Mr Bayle, what you ask is impossible." "You despise me," he cried passionately, "because I am so boyish--so young."