’Miss Garston, I want to say something:  I feel I owe you some sort of explanation.  I wish to tell you that I have only myself to blame.  I have thought it all over, and I have come to the conclusion that it is no fault of yours that I misunderstood you.  It is your nature to be kind.  You did not wish to mislead me.’

‘I am not aware that I ever mislead people,’ I returned, rather proudly, for I could not help feeling a little indignant:  Mr. Hamilton was certainly not treating me well.

‘No, of course not,’ looking excessively pained.  ’I know you too well to accuse you of that.  If I misunderstood you, if I imagined things, it was my own fault,—­mine solely.  I would not blame you for worlds.’

‘I am glad of that, Mr. Hamilton,’ in rather an icy tone.

’No, you could not have told me:  I ought to have found it out for myself.  Do you mind if I go away now?  I do not feel quite myself, and I would rather talk of this again another time.  Perhaps you will tell me all about it then.’  And he actually took up his hat and shook hands with me again.  Somehow his touch made me shiver when I remembered the long hand-clasp of the previous night,—­only ten or eleven hours ago; and yet this strange change had been worked in him.

I let him go, though it nearly broke my heart to see him look so careworn and miserable.  My woman’s pride was up in arms, though for very pity and love I could have called him back and begged him to tell me in plain English and without reservation what he meant by his vague words.  Once I rose and went to the door, the latch was in my hand, but I sat down again and watched him quietly until he was out of sight.  I would wait, I said to myself; I would rather wait until he came to his senses; and then I laughed a little angrily, though the tears were in my eyes.  It was vexatious, it was bitterly disappointing, it was laying on my shoulders a fresh burden of responsibility and anxiety.  The happiness that a quarter of an hour ago seemed within my reach had vanished and left me worried and perplexed.  And yet, in spite of the pain Mr. Hamilton had inflicted, I did not for one moment lose hope or courage.

Something had gone wrong, that was evident.  The perfect understanding that had been between us last night seemed ruthlessly disturbed and perhaps broken.  Could this be Miss Darrell’s work?  Had she made mischief between us?  I wondered what part of my conduct or actions she had misrepresented to her cousin.  It was this uncertainty that tormented me:  how could I refute mere intangible shadows?

Strange to say, I never doubted his love for a moment.  If such a doubt had entered my mind I should have been miserable indeed; but no such thought fretted me.  I was only hurt that he could have brought himself to believe anything against me, that he should have listened to her false sophistry and not have asked for my explanation; but, as I remembered that love was prone to jealousy and not above suspicion, I soon forgave him in my heart.