ion.

"In your power! Yes, sir! My character, my life, for aught I know: but
not my soul, Send me to Bodmin Gaol if you will; but offer no more
insults to a modest maiden! Oh!"--and her expression changed to one
of lofty sorrow and pity;--"Oh! to find all men alike at heart? After
having fancied you--fancied you" (what she had fancied him her woman's
modesty dare not repeat)--"to find you even such another as Mr.
Trebooze!"

Tom was checked. As for mere indignation, in such cases, he had seen
enough of that to trust it no more than "ice that is one night old:"
but pity for him was a weapon of defence to which he was unaccustomed.
And there was no contempt in her pity; and no affectation either. Her
voice was solemn, but tender, gently upbraiding, like her countenance.
Never had he felt Grace's mysterious attraction so strong upon him;
and for the first and last time, perhaps, for many a year, he answered
with downcast eyes of shame.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Harvey. I have been rude--mad. If you will
look in your glass when you go home, and have a woman's heart in you,
you may at least see an excuse for me: but like Mr. Trebooze I am not.
Forgive and forget, and let us walk home rationally." And he offered
to take her hand.

"No: not now! Not till I can trust you, sir!" said she. The words were
lofty enough: but there was a profound melancholy in their tone which
humbled Tom still more. Was it possible--she seemed to have hinted
it--that she had thought him a very grand personage till now, and that
he had disgraced himself in her eyes?

If a man had suspected Tom of such a feeling, I fear he would have
cared little, save how to restore the balance by making a fool of the
man who fancied him a fool: but no male self-sufficiency or pride
is proof against the contempt of woman; and Tom slunk along by the
schoolmistress's side, as if he had been one of her naughtiest
school-children. He tried, of course, to brazen it out to his own
conscience. He had done no harm, after all; indeed, never seriously
meant any. She was making a ridiculous fuss about nothing. It was all
part and parcel of her methodistical cant. He dared say that she was
not as prudish with the methodist parson. And at that base thought he
paused; for a flush of rage, and a strong desire on such hypothesis to
slay the said methodist parson, or any one else who dared even to look
sweet on Grace, showed him plainly enough what he had long been afraid
of,