148 A BKEAKFAST, AND — BROKEN BONES. 



that he had so. It was not easy to make her perceive 

 this, yet he knew that he could make her feel it. 

 Again he saw that it was not quite the time to attempt 

 it, and this, with a lingering of pride, and an unwill- 

 ingness to humble himself, perhaps in Vain, so far as 

 he ought to humble himself, led him to answer her — 



"You do not wish, I suppose, to hear the explana- 

 tion, which, upon my honor ! I believe will satisfy you, 

 that—" 



" Pardon me, for interrupting you," she said sweetly, 

 " but I had rather not. I will not deny that you have 

 wounded me in a manner I did not expect from you. 

 No explanations can remove the sense of humiliation 

 which I feel ; and we had better remain as we are." 



"It is not you that I would humiliate; but," he 

 proceeded bitterly, "you do not wish me to speak — 

 and I am silent. You say, ^ we had better remain as 

 we are' — I hope that is ' friends. ' " 



" All who are friends to my brother are my friends," 

 she answered, with a smile which was as cold as that 

 of an April morning, when an early frost has checked 

 the growing verdure of the spring. " This has been 

 an unpleasant topic, when I meant it should have been 

 agreeable — let us say no more about it. And hark ! 

 here comes papa." 



Perhaps even as Mary Merton spoke these words 

 she half repented — perhaps she felt that the explana- 

 tion, the apology, for such it must have been, of so 

 proud a man once rejected never would be renewed or 

 tendered any more — perhaps she reflected that to be 

 grieved and refuse consolation, to be olFended and re- 

 ject reparation is neither wise nor just — perhaps she 

 half admitted that the explanation might have made 

 her happier not only than she was, but than she had 

 ever been before. She knew that she felt sadder now 

 than she had ever felt, and was half angry at herself, 

 for being sad she knew not wherefore. 



