"You may be perfectly right. I may have done all this; and yet" (I questioned steadily) "am I to blame if my heart has refused to listen to my will, and if I find that I cannot take the step which he expects of me?"
He gave me a startled glance, and, seeing the grave question in his eyes, I laughed. He looked infinitely relieved. "I thought, for a moment, that you were in earnest," he said apologetically.
"You would have thought very poorly of me if I had been so," I remarked, calmly beginning to eat my peach.
"No," he asserted, "not very poorly; but you would have seemed fickle, which is the last fault I should have accused you of possessing" (with a glance of admiration).
I felt wretchedly mean and small. I was alarmed at the high opinion George had of me, and the disappointment he would feel if I failed to keep my promise to Chilton Thurber. I have felt lately that it would be impossible for me to do that. The sentiment I have for him is not love, and I doubt my ability to make it so. "Oh, surely," I thought, "George judges very harshly!" But I concealed the pain I was enduring as well as I could, and endeavored to draw my companion to other topics. Fortunately, the guests soon left the tables; and we followed their example, though I cast one last lingering look at the glories which were about to become a thing of the past.
When I took my way reluctantly to the ball-room, it
