"But since you would know the cause of my ill-feeling, sit down and hear what I have to say." I resumed my chair, and he continued: "I can see no reason for your cousin's strange aversion to me save that you have used well the time of my absence in traducing me, hoping doubtless to smooth the king's path by removing me from her thoughts." What he said did little to allay my anger until I looked into his face and saw that by reason of his fever and his great trouble, he was not responsible for his words.

I had been on the point of giving him the lie the second time, but after a moment's consideration, my anger changed to pity, and I said:-- "Forgive me, Hamilton.

I am sorry I spoke in anger.

You did not lie.

You have been simply jumping at conclusions." "Perhaps," he answered wanderingly.
"But if I tell you, upon my honor, that you are mistaken, will you believe me ?" I asked, still feeling a touch of irritation.
He did not answer, so, thinking to give him one more chance, I continued gently: "I have neither harbored an unkind thought of you nor spoken an unkind word of you since the day we parted at Sundridge.