He looked at her again in silence. "I see; my presence troubles you and pains you. I will go away; but you must give me leave to come again."
"Please don't come again," she said.
"Never?—never?"
She made a great effort; she wished to say something that would make it impossible he should ever again cross her threshold. "It is wrong of you. There is no propriety in it—no reason for it."
"Ah, dearest lady, you do me injustice!" cried Morris Townsend. "We have only waited, and now we are free."
"You treated me badly," said Catherine.
"Not if you think of it rightly. You had your quiet life with your father—which was just what I could not make up my mind to rob you of."
"Yes; I had that."
Morris felt it to be a considerable damage to his cause that he could not add that she had had something more besides; for it is needless to say that he had learnt the contents of Doctor Sloper's will. He was nevertheless not at a loss. "There are worse fates than that!" he exclaimed with expres-
