her
to stand on her guard. Though beaten by the storm of his devotion, she
said to herself that she could get away if she could keep from crying
or sobbing, and one thought which came to her with the swiftness of
lightning gave her strength to resist. It was this: "If I cry, he will
take me in his arms, and we shall repeat the tableau mamma saw in the
rose-house."

Strong in that stimulating thought, she said: "I am too sorry to hear
you say these things. You know how much we have always thought of you.
If you forget all this, and never repeat it, we may still be friends.
But if you renew this subject, I will never speak to you again alone,
as long as I live."

He began to protest; but she insisted, with the calm cruelty of a woman
who sees her advantage over the man she loves. "If you say another
word, it is the end of our acquaintance, and perhaps it is best that it
should end. We can hardly be again as we were."

Farnham was speechless, like one waked in the cold air out of a
tropical dream. He had been carried on for the last hour in a whirlwind
of emotion, and now he had met an obstacle against which it seemed that
nothing could be done. If he had planned his avowal, he might have been
prepared for rejection; but he had been hurried into it with no thought
of what the result would be, and he was equally unprovided for either
issue. In face of the unwavering voice and bearing of Alice, who seemed
ten times more beautiful than ever as she stood before him as steady
and unresponsive as a young Fate, his hot speech seemed suddenly
smitten powerless. He only said:

"It shall be as you wish. If I ever offend you again, I will take my
punishment upon myself and get out of your way."

She did not dare to say another word, for fear it would be too kind.
She gave him her hand; it was soft and warm as he pressed it; and if he
had only known how much softer and warmer her heart was, he would have
covered her hand with a thousand kisses. But he bowed and took his
leave, and she stood by the lattice and saw him go away, with eyes full
of tears and a breast filled with the tenderest ruth and pity--for him
and for herself.

XI.

THE SANTA RITA SHERRY.

Farnham walked down the path to the gate, then turned to go to his own
house, with no very definite idea of what direction he was taking. The
interview he had just had was still powerfully affecting his senses, he
was conscious of no depression from the prompt