hazard what may be unjust--ah! the cinder is not cold."

And Mowbray's head drooped. They walked on in silence.

"Well, well," he continued at length, "I saw her often. I could not
strangle my feelings. I loved her--in spite of her wealth--not on
account of it. But gradually my sentiment moderated: like a whip of
scorpions, this suspicion she felt struck me, wounding my heart and
inflaming my pride. I tried to stay away; I dragged through life for a
week without seeing her; then, impelled by a violent impulse, I went
to her again, armed with an impassible pride, and determined to
converse upon the most indifferent subjects--to test her nature fully,
and--to make the test complete--bend all the energies of my mind to
the task of weighing her words, her looks, her tones, that I might
make a final decision. Well, she almost distinctly intimated, fifteen
minutes after our interview commenced, that I was a fortune-hunter
whom she regarded with a mixture of amusement and contempt."

"Oh, sir! could it have been that you----"

The boy stopped.

"How unhappy she must be--to have to suspect such noble natures as
your own," he added in a low voice.

Mowbray turned away his head; then by a powerful effort went on.

"You shall judge, Charles," he said in a voice which he mastered only
by a struggle; "you shall say whether I am correct in my opinion of
her thoughts. She asked me plainly if I was poor; to which question I
replied with a single word--'Very.' Next, did I hope to become rich! I
did hope so. Her advice then was, she said, that I should marry some
heiress, since that was a surer and more rapid means than law or
politics. She said it very satirically, and with a glance which killed
my love----"

"Oh, sir!" the boy murmured.

"Yes; and though I was calm, my face not paler, I believe, than usual,
I was led to say what I bitterly regret--not because it was untrue,
for it was not, rather was it profoundly true--but because it might
have been misunderstood. It was disgraceful to marry for mere wealth,
I said; and I added, 'too expensive'--since unhappiness at any price
was dear. I added that money would never purchase my own
heart--school-boy fashion, you perceive; and then I left her--never to
return."

A long silence followed these words. Mowbray then added calmly:

"You deduce from this narrative, Charles, one lesson. Never give your
affections to a woman suddenly; never make a young girl whom you do
not know t