iss Pendarrel to appoint the time,
when anxiety and fidelity may be rewarded with joy, and I may become
the most fortunate of men."

"Mr. Melcomb," Mildred said, rising from her chair, and trembling, "I
am above pretending to misunderstand you. Have you my mother's ...
Does she...."

"It is by Mrs. Pendarrel's leave that I venture," said the coxcomb in
his softest manner. "And an early day, dearest Mildred,----"

He made a step as if to take her hand, but she recoiled, and said, in
a tone of determination, which Melcomb probably never forgot, "The day
will never come."

She turned towards the door, but stopped as though she wished to say
something more. Melcomb had anticipated a refusal, but not one so
decisive.

"Miss Pendarrel will pardon my expressing surprise...." he began to
say. Mildred hastily interrupted him, with faltering words.

"Sir, sir, perhaps it is I should ask your pardon--but you have
never--it is the first time--I have had no opportunity--in pity to me,
sir, urge these addresses no farther."

She could no longer restrain her tears, and quitted the room, Melcomb
making no attempt to detain her.

He was neither surprised, nor mortified, nor even discomposed. It was
a check by discovery, long expected and prepared for, by no means
check-mate. And he had not lost his queen. The game was by no means
desperate. But he wished for time to consider his next move, and left
the house without seeing Mrs. Pendarrel.

That lady immediately conjectured what had occurred, and only feared
that Mildred might have affronted her suitor to such a degree as to
make him abandon his intentions. He had not been very long gone before
she sought an explanation from her daughter.

"Mildred, my dear child," she said, "what is the meaning of this? How
happens it, that the politest of mankind leaves my house without
kissing my hand?"

There was a covert irony in Mrs. Pendarrel's manner, which, against
her will, betrayed her own contempt for Melcomb, and at the same time
showed her ruthless resolution.

"Mamma," Mildred answered, fixing her reddened eyes on her mother's,
"you know."

"Nay, child, I am not a divine. I hope you were not rude to Mr.
Melcomb? To your intended husband?"

"I refused him, mamma."

"And why did you not refuse him long ago?" Mrs. Pendarrel asked
abruptly.

"He never asked me, mother," answered Mildred, swinging her hand to
and fro. "He never asked me. Till just now I have heard nothing