sion t sort of general pend to mere strangers.”

    “Of course,” ranger.”

    tranquil tone, ifying and baffling enougtended to tions of pride and ire, I sely   sometrongly ted my cousin’s talent and principle. o me: to lose it tried me severely. I  so soon relinquistempt to reconquer it.

    “Must  in t. Joo India,  a kinder  spoken?”

    urned quite from the moon and faced me.

    “o India, Jane,  go to India?”

    “You said I could not unless I married you.”

    “And you  marry me! You ado t resolution?”

    Reader, do you knoerror t into tions? heir displeasure?

    “No. St. Jo marry you. I ado my resolution.”

    ttle for it did not yet crash down.

    “Once more, whis refusal?” he asked.

    “Formerly,” I ans love me; no e me. If I o marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now.”

    urned e we.

    “I s not to be used: violent, unfeminine, and untrue. tray an unfortunate state of mind: t severe reproof: t t it is ty of man to forgive il seventy-and-seven times.”

    I ly  tenacious surface anot it in.

    “No is useless to attempt to conciliate you: I see I ernal enemy of you.”

    A fres: toucrut bloodless lip quivered to a temporary spasm. I kneeely ire I ted. I was -wrung.

    “You utterly misinterpret my  once seizing ention to grieve or pain you—indeed, I .”

    Most bitterly  decidedly  go to India at all, I presume?” said er a considerable pause.

    “Yes, I ant,” I answered.

    A very long