into her face, saw her wish to pass unnoticed. A sudden anger seized him; he sprang to his feet and stood in her path, he caught her dress in his hands as she turned to go back.
"You shall not go!" he cried, half in anger, half in entreaty, "not till you tell me what all this coldness means."
"I am not aware of any coldness," she said, her face flushed and half turned away. "It's later than I thought. I must go back; Father will expect me."
"You will not go back," he answered, "till you tell me what it all means? Why have my friends turned from me? Why am I sent to Coventry? What have I done? Alice," he continued, as she tried to face him with a look of surprise, so badly feigned on her honest face that she blushed at her own deception, "don't pretend not to understand me; be true to yourself—to me. Tell me what I have done."
"Done!" she echoed. "I don't know that you have done anything wrong; it's only—only it's a matter of feeling."
"A matter of feeling!" He caught her hands as she turned to go. "You must tell me,
