"Will you let me go, Mr. Stanford?" haughtily.

"No, my dear; certainly not. I don't get the chance of _tete-a-tete_
with you so often that I should resign the priceless privilege at a
word. We used to be good friends, Rose; why can't we be good friends
again?"

"Used to be!" Rose echoed; and then her voice failed her. All her love
and her wounded pride rose in her throat and choked her.

Reginald Stanford drew her closer to him, and tried to see the averted
face.

"Won't you forgive me, Rose? I didn't behave well, I know; but I liked
you so much. Won't you forgive me?"

A passionate outburst of tears, that would no longer be restrained,
answered him.

"Oh! how could you do it? How could you do it? How could you deceive me
so?" sobbed Rose.

Stanford drew her closer still.

"Deceive you, my darling! How did I deceive you? Tell me, Rose, and
don't cry!"

"You said--you said your name was Reinecourt, and it wasn't; and I
didn't know you were Kate's lover, or I never would have--would
have--oh! how could you do it?"

"My dear little girl, I told you the truth. My name is Reinecourt."

Rose looked up indignantly.

"Reginald Reinecourt Stanford is my name; and the reason I only gave you
a third of it was, as I said before, because I liked you so much. You
know, my dear little Rose, if I had told you that day on the ice my name
was Reginald Stanford, you would have gone straight to the Hall, told
the news, and had me brought here at once. By that proceeding I should
have seen very little of you, of course. Don't you see?"

"Ye-e-e-s," very falteringly.

"I looked up that day from the ice," continued Stanford, "and saw such a
dear little curly-headed, bright-eyed, rose-cheeked fairy, that--no, I
can't tell you how I felt at the sight. I gave you my middle name, and
you acted the Good Samaritan to the wounded stranger--came to see me
every day, and made that sprained ankle the greatest boon of my life!"

"Mr. Stanford--"

"Call me Reginald."

"I cannot. Let me go! What would Kate say?"

"She will like it. She doesn't understand why you dislike me so much."

He laughed as he said it. The laugh implied so much, that Rose started
up, colouring vividly.

"This is wrong! I must go. Don't hold me, Mr. Stanford."

"Reginald, if you please!"

"I have no right to say Reginald."

"Yes, you have a sister's right!"

"Let me go!" said Rose, imperiously. "I ought not to be here."

"I don't see why. It is v