" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which
must have been very painful to the listening father.

"The week after Thanksgiving. I did not see her the first day, and only
casually the second. But she knew I was in the building, and when I came
upon her one evening seated at the very desk in the mezzanine which we
all have such bitter cause to remember, I could not forbear expressing
myself in a way she could not misunderstand. The result was of a kind to
drive a man like myself to an extremity of self-condemnation and rage.
She rose up as if insulted, and flung me one sentence and one sentence
only before she hailed the elevator and left my presence. A cur could
not have been dismissed with less ceremony."

"That is not like my daughter. What was the sentence you allude to? Let
me hear the very words." Mr. Challoner had come forward and now stood
awaiting his reply, a dignified but pathetic figure, which all must view
with respect.

"I hate the memory of them, but since you demand it, I will repeat them
just as they fell from her lips," was Mr. Brotherson's bitter retort.
"She said, 'You of all men should recognise the unseemliness of these
proposals. Had your letters given me any hint of the feelings you have
just expressed, you would never have had this opportunity of approaching
me.' That was all; but her indignation was scathing. Ladies who have
supped exclusively off silver, show a fine scorn for the common ware of
the cottager."

Mr. Challoner bowed. "There is some mistake," said he. "My daughter
might be averse to your addresses, but she would never show indignation
to any aspirant for her hand, simply on account of extraneous
conditions. She had wide sympathies--wider than I often approved.
Something in your conduct or the confidence you showed shocked her nicer
sense; not your lack of the luxuries she often misprised. This much
I feel obliged to say, out of justice to her character, which was
uniformly considerate."

"You have seen her with men of her own world and yours," was the harsh
response. "She had another side to her nature for the man of a different
sphere. And it killed my love--that you can see--and led to my sending
her the injudicious letter with which you have confronted me. The hurt
bull utters one bellow before he dies. I bellowed, and bellowed loudly,
but I did not die. I'm my own man still and mean to remain so."

The assertive boldness--some would call it bravado--with which he