spirit. "If I were blue, I should not come to you for sympathy."
"Why not?"
"Because I think you have n't such a thing in your nature."
"Now, that, Miss Romilly, is extremely unjust. How can you know whether I am sympathetic or not? Do you think you understand me thoroughly, after such a short acquaintance?"
I could not determine whether he was in earnest or not; so I answered, at random,—
"No, I am not so rash."
"You have not told me why you sighed in such a dismal way."
"Because I was sorry for you."
"Indeed!" (amusement showing itself in his eyes.) "May I ask why?"
"You looked so melancholy, just then."
"That was kind of you," he said, smilingly. "If you knew what made me thoughtful,—I deny being melancholy,—you would not feel at all sorry for me."
"Then it is as well that I do not know?" I retorted.
"You never shall, if I can help it," he muttered under his breath.
"I beg pardon?" I said sweetly. "I did not hear."
"And I did not intend that you should" (with a grave smile). "But," he added, "I don't mean to be rude, and I fear I seem so. How forbearing you are to-day!"
