32 A Mental Struggle.
Felix Brown, seeing nothing else left to him, drops
lazily into a loungmg-chair close to Imogen.
" Don't send me away," he says, with a little curious
half-laughing glance that puzzles her. "I'll be very good."
" Is it necessary to promise?" asks she, lifting her eyes.
There is a tempered graciousness in her manner. Woman¬
like, she feels she owes him something for her late unkind-
ness. "Are you so afraid of transgressing ?" A smile,
pale and fleeting as a moonbeam, illumines her face for a
moment only.
" More than I can tell you."
There is a touch of unconscious meaning in his voice.
He stoops forward and caresses, with a light touch, a small
dusky terrier that has crept into Miss Heriot's lap, sure of
its welcome. The little creature, after sniffing suspiciously
at his hand, turns and licks it in friendly fashion. But
Felix seems hardly aware of the dog's attention. Still with
his hand upon the terrier's shaggy coat, he looks up at
Miss Heriot.
" I have every reason for fear; I have already offended.
Is not that so ? " he asks in a low tone.
Miss Heriot's eyes meet his steadily.
" You forget I am not in your confidence," she returns
calmly, indiflererrtly. " I aiu sorry if you have so soon
come to grief. Into wdioso 'xid graces have you fallen ?"
" If you do not know," exclaims Felix gaily, " there is
still balm in Gilead; and all my fears may now be called
my fancies."
"Did you racnn me—my bad graces?" asks she, with a
sudden displeased surprise. She draws back from him, and
the faintest tinge of pink creeps up and dyes the pallor of
her cheeks.
" If I did ? " questions the young man, leaning forward
and regarding her intently.
" If you did, j'oir gave yourself very unnecessai'y con¬
cern. To feel offence, one must feel interest; and we—are
strangers !"
" True," returns Felix quietly. He gives the little dog a
final pat, and then leans back in his chair. " You remind
me of an undoubted fact," he continues slowly.
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