“Precisely, Miss Sandford.  And for that reason you would be no mate for me.  My wife must have no skeletons in her closet.”

“Men generally claim the monopoly of those agreeable toys, I believe.”

“Love is impossible where there are concealments.  A secret is like a worm in the heart of an apple, and nothing but rottenness and corruption follow.”

“Fortunately, you harbor none.  You have turned your heart inside out, like a peddler’s pack,—­and a gratifying display it made!  I am more than satisfied.”

“The tone you have adopted is a warning to me to stop.  I wish to bandy no epithets, or reproaches.  I came sorrowfully to tell you what I have told.  I had no fault to impute to you.  But I must confess that this morning you have shown yourself capable of thoughts and feelings I never suspected, and I shall leave you with a far lighter heart than I came.”

“You expected to see me at your feet, imploring your love and striving to melt you by tears,—­did you?  It would have been a pleasing triumph,—­one that your sex prizes, I believe; but you have not been gratified.  I know what is due to myself, and I do not stoop.  But there may be ways to punish the betrayer of confidence,” she said, with a heaving bosom and distended nostrils.  “I have a brother; and even if he is forgetful, I shall not forget.”

“I am obliged to you for putting me on my guard.  I wished to part otherwise.  Be it so, since you will.”

He turned to leave the room.  Swift as lightning, she ran to the front door and braced herself against it, at the same time calling loudly to her brother.  Mr. Sandford came to the top of the stairs and listened with apparent apathy, while the maddened woman poured out her rage.  He stood a moment like one in a dream, and then slowly came down.

“There is your cane,” said Marcia, fiercely, pointing to the umbrella-stand.

“I give you fair warning,” said Greenleaf, calmly, “that you will never strike more than one blow.  No man shall assault me but at the risk of his life.”

“What is the need of this fury?” asked Mr. Sandford.  “I don’t want to quarrel with a pauper.  You are well rid of him.  If you were to be married, you’d only have the pleasure of going to Deer Island for your bridal trip.”

“Then you will see me insulted without lifting a finger?  Coward!  Broken down like a weed for the loss of a little money!  I should be ashamed to have a beard, if I had such a timid soul!”

“I trust, Miss Sandford,” said Greenleaf, “you do not wish to prolong this scene.  Let me pass.”

“Oh, yes,—­you can go; can’t he, brother?”

She opened the door, looking scornfully from the one to the other.

At that moment Mrs. Sandford came down, bringing a satchel, and asked Greenleaf to walk with her until she could get a carriage.  He cheerfully promised his aid, and took the satchel.  Her eyes were sadly beautiful, and still humid from recent tears; and her face wore a touching look of resignation.  She did not speak to Mr. Sandford, who stood scowling at her; but, taking Marcia’s hand, she said,—­