countenance so well that he could not imagine I was saying anything more than the actual truth.
"'Then it's all over, I suppose,' he said, looking as if he could have died on the spot with vexation and the intensity of his despair. But he was angry as well as disappointed. There was he, suffering so unspeakably, and there was I, the pitiless cause of it all, so utterly impenetrable to all the artillery of his looks and words, so calmly cold and proud, he could not but feel some resentment; and with singular bitterness he began,
"'I certainly did not expect this, Miss Murray. I might say something about your past conduct, and the hopes you have led me to foster; but I forbear, on condition—'
"No conditions, Mr. Hatfield!" said I, now truly indignant at his insolence.
"'Then let me beg it as a favour,' he replied, lowering his voice at once, and taking an humbler tone; 'let me entreat that you will not mention this affair to any one whatever. If you will keep silence about it, there need be no unpleasantness on either side—nothing, I mean, beyond what is quite unavoidable, for my own feelings, I will endeavour to keep to
