"You tried a dangerous remedy, Margaret."
"Not so dangerous as the disease."
"A remedy may be worse than a disease. In spite of your scornful tone, permit me to tell you that if you had succeeded at all, it would have been in the end by loving me as you loved—I mean love—this other man. While I, in the meantime, am in love (as you are kind enough to inform me—hopelessly) with another woman! Is Beatrice a friend of yours?"
"My dearest friend."
"Has it never occurred to you that you were playing towards her rather a traitorous part?"
"Never."
"Supposing, during this experiment of yours, that I had fallen in love with you?"
"It would have been nothing to Beatrice if you had," responded Mrs. Lovell's friend instantly and loyally, although remembering, at the same moment, that Fiesole blush. Then, in a changed voice, and with a proud humility which was touching, she added, "It would have been quite impossible. Beatrice is the loveliest woman in the world; any one who had loved her would never think of me."
At this moment Miss Harrison's voice was heard in the hall; she was returning.
"Good-bye," said Morgan. "I shall go to-morrow. You would rather have me go." He took her hand, held it an instant, and then raised it to his lips. "Good-bye," he said, again. "Forgive me, Margaret. And do not entirely—forget me."