, who felt
there was trouble in the air, came nearer and placed his cold wet snout
against the clinched hands of his master; but the hands were
unresponsive.

At last, the stricken man mustered courage enough to stammer in a
constrained voice:

"It is not from curiosity I ask it, but would you mind telling
me--giving me at least some idea of what I said?"

Elinor carefully deposited a neatly folded handkerchief upon a little
pile of other handkerchiefs. Then, looking down at the table and not at
Pats, she said calmly, as she continued her work:

"You said I was a pious hypocrite--coldblooded and heartless--and a
fool. You repeated a great many times that I was superior, pretentious,
and 'everlastingly stuck on myself,'--I think that was the expression.
Of course, I cannot repeat your own words. They were forcible, but
exceedingly profane."

"Oh!"

"You kept mentioning three other men who could have me for all you
cared."

Pats felt himself blushing. He frowned, grew hot, and bit his lip.
Mingled with his mortification came an impotent rage. He felt that
behind her contempt she was laughing at him. As there was a pause, he
muttered bitterly:

"Go on."

But she continued silently with her ironing.

"Please go on. Tell me more; the worst. I should like to know it."

Raising one of the handkerchiefs higher for a closer examination, she
added: "You sang comic songs, inserting my name, and with language I
supposed no gentlemen could use."

Pats gasped. His cheeks tingled. In shame he closed his eyes. The
ticking of the old clock behind the door seemed to hammer his
degradation still deeper into his aching soul. As his wandering,
miserable gaze encountered the marble face of the Marshal of France he
thought the old soldier was watching him in contemptuous enjoyment.

But Elinor went on quietly with her ironing.

Suddenly into his feverish brain there came a thought, heaven-born,
inspiring. It lifted him to his feet. With a firm stride he approached
the table. No legs could have done it better. He stood beside her, but
she turned her back as she went on with the ironing. His expression was
of a man exalted, yet anxious; and he spoke in a low but unruly voice.

"You say you have known I was in love with you ever since the fever?"

She nodded slightly, without looking up.

"And yet you have been very--kind, and not--not annoyed or offended.
Perhaps after all, you--you--oh, please turn around!"

But she di