before seen him exhibit. "Kate, I have been
deceived in you. I thought at least you were candid and
straightforward: I find you faithless, ungrateful, ungenerous! But I
will not reproach you," he added, checking himself by a strong effort:
"it is only natural, I conclude, for a woman to be false. I thought
you were different from the rest, and I was a fool for my pains. Kate,
let us understand each other at once. I offered you last night all
that man could give. I had a right to expect an answer then and there.
I _thought_ I had a favourable one, and I have spent twelve hours of
happiness. I now see that I have deceived myself. Perhaps I value my
own worth too highly; I own I feel sore and aggrieved, but _you_ shall
not be the sufferer. Kate, I am only 'Cousin John' once more. Give me
a few days to get over a natural disappointment, and you and I will be
friends and playfellows as we used to be. Shake hands, Kate: I spoke
harshly, in a moment of anger; it is over now. God bless you, dear!"

And with these words John walked away, and left me standing on that
eventful doorstep which seemed to witness all the changes and chances
of my life. How stately was his walk as he strode down the street! I
watched him all the way to the corner, but he never once looked back.
John was grown much handsomer of late; he used to be too ruddy and
prosperous-looking and boyish, but his countenance had altered
considerably in the last two or three months--only, seeing him every
day, I did not remark the change. Lady Scapegrace had found it out the
first. I perfectly remember her saying to me, on the day of our
Greenwich dinner,--

"My dear, your cousin has a great deal in him, if one did but know how
to get it _out_. You have no idea what a good-looking man he would be,
if you could only succeed in making him ill and unhappy."

Poor John! I am afraid I had made him unhappy, even now. It struck me
he had a nobler bearing than Captain Lovell himself; although, of
course, I could not think him so graceful, or so handsome, or half so
charming as my dear Frank. I rushed into the house and locked myself
in my boudoir, to think over and dwell upon the many events of that
most eventful morning--my happy walk, my delightful companion, whose
soft voice was still whispering in my ear, whose every look and
gesture I could recall, even to the wind freshening his handsome brow
and waving his clustering locks. How happy and contented I felt by his
sid