ught so. For your mother, wasn't it?"

"No, no. Miss Colton, you are wrong. I--"

"I am not wrong. Never mind. I suppose it is a secret. Perhaps I shall
find out some day. But will you forgive me for being so hateful? Can
you? What is the matter?"

"Nothing--nothing. I--you are too good to me, that is all. I don't
deserve it."

"Hush! And we will be friends again?"

"Yes. . . . . Oh, no! no! I must not think of it. It is impossible."

"Must not think of it? When I ask you to? Can't you forgive me, after
all?"

"There was nothing to forgive."

"Yes, there was, a great deal. Is there something else? Are you still
angry with me because of what I said that afternoon at the gate?"

"No, of course not."

"It was hateful of me, I know. But I could see that you wished to avoid
me and I was provoked. Besides, you have punished me for that. You have
snubbed me twice since, sir."

"_I_ snubbed YOU?"

"Yes--twice. Once when we met in the street. You deliberately turned
away and would not look at me. And once when I passed you in the canoe.
You saw me--I know you did--but you cut me dead. That is why I did not
return your bow to-day, at the wedding."

"But you had said--I thought--"

"I know. I had said horrid things. I deserved to be snubbed. There! now
I have confessed. Mayn't we be friends?"

"I . . . Oh, no, we must not, for your sake. I--"

"For my sake! But I wish it. Why not?"

I turned on her. "Can't you see?" I said, despairingly. "Look at the
difference between us! You are what you are and I--"

She interrupted me. "Oh," she cried, impatiently, "how dare you speak
so? How dare you believe that money and--all the rest of it influences
me in my friendships? Do you think I care for that?"

"I did not mean money alone. But even that Miss Colton, that evening
when we returned from the trip after weakfish, you and your father and
I, I heard--I did not mean to hear but I did--what your mother said when
she met you. She said she had warned you against trusting yourself to
'that common fellow,' meaning me. That shows what she thinks. She was
right; in a way she was perfectly right. Now you see what I mean by
saying that friendship between us is impossible?"

I had spoken at white heat. Now I turned away. It was settled. She must
understand now.

"Mr. Paine."

"Yes, Miss Colton."

"I am sorry you heard that. Mother--she is my mother and I love her--but
she says foolish things sometimes. I am sorry you