o one," she answered, quickly; "but you are a reckless
talker, and I have gathered much from my own observation. You have
told me more than once that you are in debt; sometimes I fear you
gamble. Oh!" as a dark flush mounted to his forehead, "I should be
grieved to think that this is true."

"You would hate me all the more, I suppose," in a defiant voice.

"Indeed I do not hate you, my poor boy; but you make me very angry
sometimes. Do you know me so little as to think I could ever bring
myself to love a gambler, or one who tried to rob another of his
inheritance--one who was so afraid of poverty that he deserted his
mother for the loaves and fishes of the man who was her worst enemy?"

"The old story," in a despairing voice; "will you never give me even
the benefit of an excuse--will you never allow me to defend myself?"

"I am not your judge," was the cold reply; and then, as she saw the
misery of his face, she relented. "Indeed, it is not too late to
retrieve the past. If you have debts, if you are in trouble, own it
frankly to your grandfather."

"And be turned out of the house a beggar?"

"What of that," she replied, cheerfully; "you have a profession; every
one says how clever you are--what a splendid barrister you will make.
You can take pupils; success and money will come to you in time."

"Too late," he muttered; "I can not free myself." Then, with a sudden
change of look and tone, "Crystal, if I do this--if I leave Belgrave
House, will you give me a hope of winning you in the future?"

She shook her head; "I can not give you that hope."

"Why not?" he demanded, fiercely.

"Because I belong to another," she answered, slowly, and there came a
wonderful light in her eyes; "and for his sake I will live as I am to
my life's end."

They had reached Beulah Place by this time, and Mrs. Watkins's shop
was in sight. There were few passers-by, so no one noticed why Percy
suddenly stood still and seized his companion's hands.

"You love another man? You dare to tell me this?"

"I tell you this for your own good, and that you may never speak to me
again as you have done. You must not be angry with me for telling you
the truth; and now will you ring the bell, for there is no need to go
through the shop?"

"I am not coming in," he said, hoarsely. "I can not trust myself."

"Then we will say good-bye here," was the quiet answer, and she
pressed his hands kindly. "Forgive me if I have made you unhappy, but
in