"Dearest, sweetest Ethel!" cried he, "forgive me; you know not the circumstances in which I was placed!"
To Ethel, this speech bore only one interpretation; she thought it referred to what Lady Marchrnont had suggested,—to pecuniary embarrassments: for these she was too young, too ignorant of their effect in the world, to have the slightest sympathy: however, she mastered the bitter anger that gave her momentary and forced composure, while she said,—
"Perhaps I may be permitted to ask what these circumstances were?"
"Impossible!" cried Courtenaye: "dearest Ethel, let me owe my forgiveness only to the kind and gentle heart which once I hoped was mine!"
This appeal to the past was most unfortunate for his cause; his allusion to her feelings seemed to Ethel a positive insult.
"Mr. Courtenaye," said she, coldly and haughtily, "might have spared any mention of affection so ill bestowed—of confidence so
