her mother, less by what he said, than by the tone of his voice as he said it, for there was in it a cold, hard ring which made her shiver and sent her back to the bed she had quitted, where she lay for hours, until she had thought it out and knew what she meant to do.  But she said nothing of her decision either to Neil or Flossie, the latter of whom left her the next day to join her grandmother, in London.

Neil waited a few days longer, loath to leave Bessie and dreading to go home and meet what he knew he must meet when he told his mother the amount of her indebtedness to Mrs. Meredith, who had signified her wish to be paid as soon as possible.

Naturally dull of perception as he was, Neil was vaguely conscious of a change in Bessie’s manner, but he attributed it to grief for the loss of her mother, wondering a little that she could mourn so deeply, a death, which, to him, seemed a relief, for Daisy was not a person whom he would care to acknowledge as his mother-in-law.

Bessie could not forget the words she had overheard, and though they might be true, she knew Neil ought not to have spoken them to a comparative stranger, and she began to realize, as she never had before, that in Neil’s nature there was much which did not accord with hers.  Many and many a time thoughts of Grey Jerrold filled her mind, and in her half-waking hours at night, she heard again his voice, so full of sympathy, and felt an inexpressible longing to see him again, and hear him speak to her.  Still, she meant to be loyal to Neil, and on the morning of his departure, when he was deploring his inability to marry her at once, she lifted her sad eyes to him and said: 

“Is there nothing you can do to help yourself?  I will do my part gladly, and it cannot cost us much to live—­just us two.”

The next moment her face was crimson, as she reflected that what she had said, seemed like begging Neil to marry her, and his answer was not very reassuring.

“There is nothing for me to do; absolutely nothing.”

“Don’t other men find employment if they want it?” Bessie asked, and he replied: 

“Yes, if they want it; but I do not.  You know as well as I the prejudice among people of my rank against clerkships, and trade, and the like.  As a rule the McPhersons do not work.”

“But I am not ashamed to work, and I am as much a McPherson as you,” Bessie answered him, emboldened for once to say what she thought.

“Yes,” he answered, slowly, “and I am sorry for it.  You told me at one time you thought of going out as governess.  Never harbor that idea again, if you care for me.  I cannot have people pointing out my wife as one who had taught their children.”

Bessie bowed her head silently as if in acquiescence, and Neil never suspected what was passing in her mind, nor dreamed that a tide was set in motion which would take Bessie away from him forever.

CHAPTER V.