She felt a desire to beg his pardon with deep humility; but she suppressed that weakness.

She hung her head with a pretty, sheepish air, and asked him if he could not think of something agreeable to say to one after deserting one so long.
"I am afraid not," said Christopher, bluntly.

"I have an awkward habit of speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not even when it is spoken for their good." "That depends on temper, and nerves, and things," said Rosa, deprecatingly; then softly, "I could bear anything from you now." "Indeed!" said Christopher, grimly.

"Well, then, I hear you had no sooner got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and telling you the truth, than you took up another,--some flimsy man of fashion, who will tell you any lie you like." "It is a story, a wicked story," cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed.

"Me, a lover! He dances like an angel; I can't help that." "Are his visits at your house like angels'-- few and far between ?" And the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first time.
Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment.