ten
betrays himself by a look of pleasure than by an expression of
disappointment. It was thought manly to bear pain in silence long before
it became fashionable to seem indifferent to joy.

Orsino's manner displeased Maria Consuelo. It was too quiet and cold and
she thought he cared less than he really did.

"You say nothing," he said at last.

"What shall I say? You speak of something preventing me from loving you
as you love me. How can I tell how much you love me?"

"Do you not see it? Do you not feel it?" Orsino's tone warmed again as
he turned towards her, but he was conscious of an effort. Deeply as he
loved her, it was not natural for him to speak passionately just at that
moment, but he knew she expected it and he did his best. She was
disappointed.

"Not always," she answered with a little sigh.

"You do not always believe that I love you?"

"I did not say that. I am not always sure that you love me as much as
you think you do--you imagine a great deal."

"I did not know it."

"Yes--sometimes. I am sure it is so."

"And how am I to prove that you are wrong and I am right?"

"How should I know? Perhaps time will show."

"Time is too slow for me. There must be some other way."

"Find it then," said Maria Consuelo, smiling rather sadly.

"I will."

He meant what he said, but the difficulty of the problem perplexed him
and there was not enough conviction in his voice. He was thinking rather
of the matter itself than of what he said. Maria Consuelo fanned herself
slowly and stared at the wall.

"If you doubt so much," said Orsino at last, "I have the right to doubt
a little too. If you loved me well enough you would promise to marry me.
You do not."

There was a short pause. At last Maria Consuelo closed her fan, looked
at it and spoke.

"You say my reason is not good. Must I go all over it again? It seems a
good one to me. Is it incredible to you that a woman should love twice?
Such things have happened before. Is it incredible to you that, loving
one person, a woman should respect the memory of another and a solemn
promise given to that other? I should respect myself less if I did not.
That it is all my fault I will admit, if you like--that I should never
have received you as I did--I grant it all--that I was weak yesterday,
that I am weak to-day, that I should be weak to-morrow if I let this go
on. I am sorry. You can take a little of the blame if you are generous
enough, or vain enough.