“Yes,” she said, “we women are worthy of being despised, when—­when we think anything of such creatures as men are capable of showing themselves to be!  Oh, it is a fine time to come and boast of what you have done, when the man you hate—­when the man you fear—­is lying ill, delirious, perhaps dying.  That is the time to boast of your strength, your prowess!  And how dare you come to me,” she continued, with a sudden toss of her head, “with all this story of gambling and debt?  What is it to me?  It seems that is the way men fight now—­with a pack of cards!  That is fighting between—­men, and the victor waves a check in triumph, and comes and brags about it to women!  Well—­I—­I don’t appreciate—­such—­such manliness.  I think you had better—­go and see to your father’s funeral—­instead of—­of bringing such a story to me!” said Miss Burgoyne, with heaving bosom; and it was real indignation this time, for there were tears in her eyes as she turned proudly away from him and marched straight for the door of the room.

“For Heaven’s sake!” he cried, intercepting her.  “Kate, I did not mean to offend you!  I take back what I said.  How could any one help being jealous—­seeing your off-and-on relations with him all this time, and you would never say one thing or another.  Forgive me.”

She turned to him, and there were still indignant tears in her eyes.

“It isn’t fair!” she said.  “It isn’t fair!—­he is ill; you might have a little humanity.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, quite humbly and imploringly (for this young man was in a bad way, and had lost his head as well as his heart).  “And I didn’t mean half what I said—­indeed I didn’t!  And—­and you shouldn’t reproach me with not going at once down to Petmansworth, when you know the cause.  I shall be among a lot of people who won’t know my relations to you; I shall have all kinds of duties before me now, and I wanted to take with me one word of assurance.  Even if it was only sympathy I wanted, why should I not come first to you, when you are the one I care for most in the world?  Isn’t it a proof of that, when my first thought is of you when this great change has taken place?  Don’t you see how you will be affected by it—­at least if you say yes.  I know you are fond of the theatre, and of all the flattery you get, and bouquets and newspaper notices; but you might find another way of life just as satisfying to your pride—­I mean a natural pride, a self-respect such as every woman should have.  Oh, I don’t mind your remaining on the stage, for a time anyway; we could not be married for at least six months, I suppose, according to usual observances; but I think if you knew how you could play the part of great lady down at Petmansworth, that might have as great attraction for you as the theatre.  I was considering in the train last night,” continued this luckless youth—­studying every feature of his mistress’s face for some favorable sign of yielding, “that perhaps you might agree to a private marriage, in a week or two’s time, by private license, and we could have the marriage announced later on.”