he did not call, and was only
at ease when he was with her, in the moment that he was saying good-by
without having uttered the dreaded words.

The end came during a call which he made on her in the last part of
June. He appeared preoccupied and moody, and said scarcely anything.
Several times she caught him furtively regarding her with a very strange
expression. She tried to talk, but she could not alone keep up the
conversation, and in time there came a silence. A hideous silence it
was to Maud, an abyss yawning to swallow up all that was left of her
happiness. She had no more power to speak, and when he spoke she knew it
would be to utter the words she had so long expected. Evidently it was
very hard for him to bring himself to utter them,--almost as hard as
it would be for her to hear them. He was very tender-hearted she had
learned already. Even in that moment she was very sorry for him. It was
all her fault that he had to say this to her.

Suddenly, just as she must have cried out, unable to bear the tension
of suspense any longer, he rose abruptly to his feet, uttering something
about going and an engagement which he had almost forgotten. Hastily
wishing her good-evening, with hurried steps he half crossed the room,
hesitated, stopped, looked back at her, seemed to waver a moment, and
then, as if moved by a sudden decision, returned to her and took her
gently by the hand. Then she knew it was coming.

For a long moment he stood looking at her. She knew just the pitifulness
that was in his expression, but she could not raise her eyes to his. She
tried to summon her pride, her dignity, to her support. But she had no
pride, no dignity, left. She had surrendered them long ago.

"I have something to say to you," he said, in a tone full of gentleness,
just as she had known he would speak. "It is something I have put off
saying as long as possible, and perhaps you have already guessed what it
is."

Maud felt the blood leaving her face; the room spun around; she was
afraid she should faint. It only remained that she should break down now
to complete her humiliation before him, and apparently she was going to
do just that.

"We have had a most delightful time the past year," he went on; "that
is, at least I have. I don't believe the friendship of a girl was ever
so much to a man as yours has been to me. I doubt if there ever was just
such a friendship as ours has been, anyway. I shall always look back on
it as the