he corner
of the envelope, and, seeing it, Charles tossed the letter carelessly
across the table to May, saying, in a peevish irony, "You may care
to see what your old admirer has to say; as for me, I have no such
curiosity."

She paid no attention to the rude speech, and went on with her
breakfast.

"You don't mean to say," cried he, in the same pettish tone, "that you
don't care what there may be in that letter? It may have some great
piece of good fortune to announce. He may have become a celebrity, a
rich man,--Heaven knows what. This may contain the offer of his hand.
Come, May, don't despise destiny; break the seal and read your fate."

She made no answer, but, rising from the table, left the room.

It was one of those days on which young Heathcote's temper so completely
mastered him that in anger with himself he would quarrel with his
dearest friend. Fortunately, they were now very rare with him, but when
they did come he was their slave. When on service and in the field,
these were the intervals in which his intrepid bravery, stimulated to
very madness, had won him fame and honor; and none, not even himself,
knew that some of his most splendid successes were reckless indifference
to life. His friends, however, learned to remark that Heathcote was no
companion at such times, and they usually avoided him.

He sat on at the breakfast-table, not eating, or indeed well conscious
where he was, when the door was hastily thrown open, and Agincourt
entered. "Well, old fellow," cried he, "I have unearthed you at last.
Your servants have most nobly resisted all my attempts to force a
passage or bribe my way to you, and it was only by a stratagem that I
contrived to slip past the porter and pass in."

"You have cost the fellow his place, then," said Charles, rudely; "he
shall be sent away to-day."

"Nonsense, Charley; none of this moroseness with me."

"And why not with _you?_" cried the other, violently. "Why not with
_you?_ You'll not presume to say that the accident of your station gives
you the privilege of intruding where others are denied? You 'll not
pretend that?"

A deep flush covered the young man's face, and his eyes flashed angrily;
but just as quickly a softened expression came over his countenance, and
in a voice of mingled kindness and bantering, he said, "I 'll tell you
what I 'll pretend, Charley; I'll pretend to say that you love me too
sincerely to mean to offend me, even when a harsh speech ha