“But you forget, my friend,” I said, “that circumstances have not altered, but only your way of viewing them; we must still be poor and humble.  Don’t you remember all your eloquent picturings of the life we should be obliged to lead?  Don’t you recollect the dull, dingy house, the tired, worn-out wife in shabby clothing”——­

“Oh, hush, Juanita!  Do not recall those wretched follies!  Besides, circumstances have somewhat changed; I am not so very poor.  My income, though small, will be sufficient, if well-managed, to maintain us in comfort and respectability.”

“Comfort and respectability!” I exclaimed, with a shudder.  “Oh, William, can you imagine that such words apply to me?  The indulgences of wealth are necessary to me as the air I breathe.  I suppose you would be able to shield me from absolute suffering; but that is not enough.  Do not speak of this again, for both our sakes.  And now, good friend,” I added, in a lighter tone, “I advise you to get up as soon as may be; we are liable to interruption at any time; and your position, though admirable for a tableau, would be a trifle embarrassing for ordinary life.”

He started to his feet, and would have left me in anger, but I recalled him with a word.  It was good to feel my power over this man who had slighted and rejected me.  Before we parted that day he had quite forgiven me for refusing him and making him ridiculous; I thought a little of the spaniel was transferred to him.  I saw, too, he had a hope, which I carefully forbore to contradict, that I preferred him to any other, and would accept him, could he but win a fortune for me.  And so I sent him out into the world again, full of vain, feverish desires after the impossible.  I gave him all the pains of love without its consolations.  It was good, as far as it went.

John and I, meanwhile, got on very peacefully together.  He was not demonstrative, nor did he exact demonstration from me.  I had promised to marry him, and he trusted implicitly to my faith; while his love was so reverent, his ideal of maiden delicacy so exalted, that I should have suffered in his esteem, I verily believe, had my regard been shown other than by a quiet tenderness of manner.

About this time my uncle’s family went abroad.  They wished me to accompany them, but I steadily declined.  When they pressed me for a reason, I told them of my engagement to John, and that I was unwilling to leave him for so long a time.  The excuse was natural enough, and they believed me; and it was arranged that during the period of their absence I should remain with a sister of Mrs. Heywood.

The time passed on.  I saw William frequently.  Often he spoke to me of his love, and I scarcely checked him; I liked to feed him with false hopes, as once he had done to me.  He did not speak again of marriage; I knew his pride forbade it.  I also knew that he believed I loved him, and would wait for him.