ed at her fondly, took her hand, and drew her to the table; and, in
after years, she recalled this occasion with mournful pleasure as the last
on which he had ever given her his pet name.

CHAPTER XVIII

A REFUSAL

"Come out on the colonnade; the air is delicious." As he spoke, Hugh drew
his cousin's arm through his, and led the way from the tea-table.

"Irene, how long do you intend to keep me in painful suspense?"

"I am not aware that I have in any degree kept you in suspense."

"You shall not evade me; I have been patient, and the time has come when we
must talk of our future. Irene, dearest, be generous, and tell me when will
you give me, irrevocably, this hand which has been promised to me from your
infancy?"

He took the hand and carried it to his lips, but she forcibly withdrew it,
and, disengaging her arm, said emphatically--

"Never, Hugh. Never."

"How can you trifle with me, Irene? If you could realize how impatient I am
for the happy day when I shall call you my wife, you would be serious, and
fix an early period for our marriage."

"Hugh, why will you affect to misconceive my meaning? I am serious; I have
pondered, long and well, a matter involving your life-long happiness and
mine, and I tell you, most solemnly, that I will never be your wife."

"Oh, Irene! your promise! your sacred promise!"

"I never gave it! On the contrary, I have never failed to show you that my
whole nature rebelled against the most unnatural relation forced upon me."

"My dear Irene, have you, then, no love for me? I have hoped and believed
that you hid your love behind your cold mask of proud silence. You must,
you do love me, my beautiful cousin!"

"You do not believe your own words; you are obliged to know better. I love
you as my cousin, love you somewhat as I love Uncle Eric, love you as the
sole young relative left to me, as the only companion of my lonely
childhood; but other love than this I never had, never can have for you.
Hugh, my cousin, look fearlessly at the unvarnished truth; neither you nor
I have one spark of that affection which alone can sanction marriage."

"Indeed, you wrong me, my worshipped cousin. You are dearer to me than
anything else on earth. I have loved you, and you only, from my boyhood;
you have been a lovely idol from earliest recollection."

"You are mistaken, most entirely mistaken; I am not to be deceived, neither
can you hoodwink yourself. You like me, you love me, in t