But Mr. Fletcher did not understand its meaning; he saw the humility in her face, thought she was overcome by the weight of the honor he did her, and tried to reassure her with the gracious air of one who wishes to lighten the favor he confers. “It might not be for some men, but it is for me, because I want you very much. Let people say what they will, if you say yes I am satisfied. You shall not regret it, Christie; I’ll do my best to make you happy; you shall travel wherever I can go with you, have what you like, if possible, and when we come back by and by, you shall take your place in the world as my wife. You will fill it well, I fancy, and I shall be a happy man. I’ve had my own way all my life, and I mean to have it now, so smile, and say, ‘Yes, Philip,’ like a sweet soul, as you are.” But Christie did not smile, and felt no inclination to say “Yes, Philip,” for that last speech of his jarred on her ear. The tone of unconscious condescension in it wounded the woman’s sensitive pride; self was too apparent, and the most generous words seemed to her like bribes. This was not the lover she had dreamed of, the brave, true man who gave her all, and felt it could not half repay the treasure of her innocent, first love. This was not the happiness she had hoped for, the perfect faith, the glad surrender, the sweet content that made all things possible, and changed this work-a-day world into a heaven while the joy lasted. She had decided to say “yes,” but her heart said “no” decidedly, and with instinctive loyalty she obeyed it, even while she seemed to yield to the temptation which appeals to three of the strongest foibles in most women’s nature,—vanity, ambition, and the love of pleasure. “You are very kind, but you may repent it, you know so little of me,” she began, trying to soften her refusal, but sadly hindered by a feeling of contempt. “I know more about you than you think; but it makes no difference,” interrupted Mr. Fletcher, with a smile that irritated Christie, even before she understood its significance. “I thought it would at first, but I found I couldn’t get on without you, so I made up my mind to forgive and forget that my wife had ever been an actress.” Christie had forgotten it, and it would have been well for him if he had held his tongue. Now she understood the tone that had chilled her, the smile that angered her, and Mr. Fletcher’s fate was settled in the drawing of a breath. “Who told you that?” she asked, quickly, while every nerve tingled with the mortification of being found out then and there in the one secret of her life.