e a cup of tea, George?" said Mr. Brown, as soon as he
was able to overcome his first dismay.

"Maryanne," said Robinson, "why is that man here?" and he pointed to
Brisket.

"Ask them," said Maryanne, and she turned her face away from him, in
towards the wall.

"Mr. Brown, why is he here? Why is your daughter's former lover here
on the eve of her marriage with me?"

"I will answer that question, if you please," said Jones, stepping
up.

"You!" And Robinson, looking at him from head to foot, silenced him
with his look. "You answer me! From you I will take no answer in this
matter. With you I will hold no parley on this subject. I have spoken
to two whom I loved, and they have given me no reply. There is one
here whom I do not love and he shall answer me. Mr. Brisket, though I
have not loved you, I have believed you to be an honest man. Why are
you here?"

"To see if we can agree about my marrying that young woman," said
Brisket, nodding at her with his head, while he still kept his hands
in his trousers' pockets.

"Ah! Is it so? There she is, Mr. Brisket; and now, for the third
time, I shall go out from your presence, renouncing her charms in
your favour. When first I did so at the dancing-room, I was afraid of
your brute strength, because the crowd was looking on and I knew you
could carry out your unmanly threat. And when I wrote that paper the
second time, you had again threatened me, and I was again afraid. My
heart was high on other matters, and why should I have sacrificed
myself? Now I renounce her again; but I am not afraid,--for my heart
is high on nothing."

"George, George!" said Maryanne, jumping from her seat. "Leave him,
leave him, and I'll promise--" And then she seized hold of his arm.
For the moment some touch of a woman's feeling had reached her heart.
At that instant she perhaps recognized,--if only for the instant,
that true love is worth more than comfort, worth more than well
assured rations of bread and meat, and a secure roof. For that once
she felt rather than understood that an honest heart is better than a
strong arm. But it was too late.

[Illustration: Robinson defies his rival.]

"No," said he, "I'll have no promise from you;--your words are false.
I've humbled myself as the dust beneath your feet, because I loved
you,--and, therefore, you have treated me as the dust. The man who
will crawl to a woman will ever be so treated."

"You are about right there, old fellow," sai