ing on to his fate like a great
blundering bluebottle into a spider's web.

"Do you think there's any hope, Bessie, do you? I ain't handsome, and I
ain't disgustingly rich; but I'll give her all my heart! I'll work for
her, die for her; I'd lay my own soul down for her to walk over, only to
keep her little feet dry, upon my honor I would."

Elizabeth drew him into a window recess, and tried to soothe his
agitation.

"Poor old Tom!" she whispered; "poor dear old Tom!"

"I know what that means," he said, choking desperately; "you don't think
there is any hope. You know there is not!"

"I have tried to talk to you, Tom, but you wouldn't listen--"

"Yes, I know, I know! It's my own fault--I'll--I'll turn up jolly in a
little while--it's only the f-first that's hard!"

And Tom blew and whistled in his efforts to keep his composure, in a way
that was irresistibly ludicrous. In the midst of his distress the poor
fellow could not help being comical. Even in the suffering which was so
terribly real to him he made Elizabeth smile.

"I'm a great fool!" he exclaimed. "Just pitch in and abuse me like
smoke, Bessie, I think it would do me good."

"Only wait till to-morrow," she said, "I will talk with you then--we
shall be overheard now."

"Oh, I can't help it if the whole world hears," he groaned; "I can't
wait! The way she's going on with those dashing young fellows drives me
mad! Why couldn't I have been a dashing fellow too, instead of such a
great live-oak hulk! I can't stir without stumbling over somebody, and
as for saying those dainty things that they are pouring into her ears,
and be hanged to 'em--I can't do it. No wonder she scorns me!"

Tom dealt his unfortunate forehead a blow that made it scarlet for
several moments, and quieted him down somewhat.

"What would you advise me to do, Bessie?" he asked. "You're so sensible
and so good--just give a fellow a hint."

"Dear Tom, there is nothing for it but to wait--"

"That's pretty advice!" he burst in. "You might as well tell a person in
a blaze of fire to wait! No, I shan't wait--I shan't, I say!"

Tom ran his hands through his hair till it stood up, quivering as if he
had received an electric shock.

"Oh, you needn't look so black at me, Bessie; I know just what a humbug
I am as well as you."

"I wasn't looking black at you; I am very, very sorry, Tom."

"Don't pity me; I shall break right down if you do."

"I must go back, Tom," she said; "I can't st