"Why, she sat down in the window-seat and cried. She cried passionately. Her eyes not only rained but lightened. They flashed, open, large, dark, haughty, upon me. They said, 'You have pained me; you have outraged me; you have deceived me.'
"She added words soon to looks.
"'I did respect—I did admire—I did like you,' she said—'yes, as much as if you were my brother; and you—you want to make a speculation of me. You would immolate me to that mill, your Moloch!'
"I had the common sense to abstain from any word of excuse, any attempt at palliation. I stood to be scorned.
"Sold to the devil for the time being, I was certainly infatuated. When I did speak, what do you think I said?
"'Whatever my own feelings were, I was persuaded you loved me, Miss Keeldar.'
"Beautiful, was it not? She sat quite confounded. 'Is it Robert Moore that speaks?' I heard her mutter. 'Is it a man—or something lower?'
"'Do you mean,' she asked aloud—'do you mean you thought I loved you as we love those we wish to marry?'
"It was my meaning, and I said so.
"'You conceived an idea obnoxious to a woman's feelings,' was her answer. 'You have announced it in a fashion revolting to a woman's soul. You insinuate that all the frank kindness I have shown you has been a complicated, a bold, and an immodest manœuvre to ensnare a husband. You imply that at last you come here out of pity to offer me your hand, because I have courted you. Let me say this: Your sight is jaundiced; you have seen wrong. Your mind is warped; you have judged wrong. Your tongue betrays you; you now speak wrong. I never loved you. Be at rest there. My heart is as pure of passion for you as yours is barren of affection for me.'