indulging in a little sentiment myself that my eyes
are glued shut--you have a great deal to confess--and I hope we have not
done too much harm between us."

Hector wanted sympathy, and there was something in the widow's
directness which he felt would soothe him. He knew her good heart. He
could speak freely to her, too, without being troubled by an
over-delicacy of _mauvaise honte_, as he would have been with an
Englishwoman. It would not have seemed sacrilege to the widow to discuss
with him--who was a friend--the finest and most tender sentiments of her
own, or any one else's, heart. He drew up a _bergere_ and kissed her
hand.

"I have been behaving like a damned scoundrel," he said.

"My gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. McBride, with a violent jerk into a
sitting position. "You don't say--"

Then, for the first time for many years, a deep scarlet blush overspread
Hector's face, even up to his forehead--as he realized how she had read
his speech--how most people of the world would have read it. He got up
from his chair and walked to the window.

"Oh, good God!" he said, "I don't mean that."

The widow fell back into her pillows with a sigh of relief.

"I mean I have deliberately tried to make her unhappy, and I have
succeeded--and myself, too."

"That is not so bad then," and she settled a cushion. "Because
unhappiness is only a thing for a time. You are crazy for the moon, and
you can't get it, and you grieve and curse for a little, and then a new
moon arises. What else?"

"Well, I want you to sympathize with me, and tell me what I had better
do. Shall I go back to England to-morrow morning, or stay for the
dinner-party?"

"You got as far, then, as telling each other you loved each other
madly--and are both suffering from broken hearts, after one week's
acquaintance."

"Don't be so brutal!" pleaded Hector.

And she noticed that his face looked haggard and changed. So her shrewd,
kind eyes beamed upon him.

"Yes, I dare say it hurts; but having broken up your cake, you can't go
on eating it. Why, in Heaven's name, did you let affairs get to a
climax?"

"Because I am mad," said Hector, and he stretched out his arms. "I
cannot tell you how much I love her. Haven't you seen for yourself what
a darling she is? Every dear word she speaks shows her beautiful soul,
and it all creeps right into my heart. I worship her as I might an
angel, but I want her in my arms."

Mrs. McBride knew the English. They were not