a few days after christmas, as margaret was in her room, writing one of her frequent long letters home, mr. decourcy’s card was brought to her. it was with a strong feeling of reluctance that she went down to him, and she stopped at mrs. gaston’s door, hoping her cousin would accompany her. mrs. gaston, however, was lying on the lounge, reading a novel, and she declared herself to be too tired to stir; so margaret was obliged to go down alone.

after her first impulse had died away, she had concluded to keep the locket, as she felt she had no reason to take so extreme a step as to return it. nothing, however, would induce her to wear alan decourcy’s picture, and that she meant to let him know.

it was the first time that margaret had spoken to her cousin since witnessing the scene with mrs. vere in the conservatory, and the recollection of that scene necessarily threw a certain amount of constraint into her manner.

not observing this, however, mr. decourcy came toward her, with some words of ardent greeting, and when she extended her hand he made a motion to raise it to his lips. with a movement that was almost rough in its suddenness, margaret snatched her hand away.

“margaret! what can this mean?” said decourcy, in a tone of surprised reproach.

miss trevennon gave a little, constrained laugh.

“i don’t like that sort of thing,” she said, lightly. “don’t do it again. it’s unpleasant to me.”

“forgive me,” he answered, with the utmost gentleness, untinged by any shade of pique. “i beg your pardon. i am very sorry.”

“oh, never mind! it doesn’t matter,” said margaret, hurriedly. “thank you so much for the locket, alan. it is lovely—far lovelier than i have any idea of, i dare say, for i am so ignorant about such things.”

“i hoped it would please you,” he said. “you saw the picture i ventured to put in it? and will you consent to wear it?”

“i don’t know about that,” she said, somewhat uneasily. “it was very kind of you to put it in, but i never have worn any one’s picture. i know you’re a cousin, and all that, but i think, if you don’t mind, i’ll take the picture out and put it——”

but he interrupted her.

“it isn’t because i am your cousin, margaret, that i want you to wear my picture,” he said. “on the contrary, i hope for the time when you will forget that relationship in a nearer and tenderer one——”

“alan! stop. you must not go on,” said margaret, with sudden vehemence. “there can be no thought of a nearer relationship between us at any time. if we are to be friends at all, this subject must not be mentioned again.”

“forgive me; i have startled you,” he said. “i meant not to do that. i do not want to constrain you or to force this hope of mine upon you too suddenly, but i cannot lightly give it up. it has been with me, during all my wanderings to and fro—if not the definite hope, at least an appreciation of the fact that my sweet cousin was endowed, more than any woman whom i had known, with all the attributes and qualities a man could desire in his companion for life. i cannot, even yet, quite abandon the hope that i may yet induce you to accept my devotion.”

margaret might have borne the rest, but this word galled her.

“devotion!” she said mockingly, with a little scornful laugh. “oh, alan!”

“what do you mean? why should you speak to me in that tone? it is unfair, margaret. it is not like you.”

“i mean,” she said, growing grave, and speaking with a sudden, earnest vehemence, “that you degrade the word devotion, when you call the feeling you have to offer me by that name. i know too well what real devotion means. i have too just an estimate of its goodness and strength to call the cool regard you have for me devotion! a cool regard between cousins does well enough, but that feeling in connection with marriage is another thing, and i had better tell you, here and now, that i would live my life out unloved and alone, sooner than i would wrong myself by accepting such a counterfeit devotion as this that you offer me.”

decourcy, who was, of course, entirely ignorant of the ground on which margaret’s strong feeling was based, heard her with amazement. the only explanation that suggested itself was that some one, who happened to be aware of his rather well-known affair with mrs. vere, had informed his cousin. it was, therefore, with a tone of injured gentleness, that he said:

“margaret, you surprise and grieve me inexpressibly by such words as those. i can only account for them by the possibility of some one’s having given you false ideas about me. there are always people to do these things, unfortunately,” he went on, with a little sigh of patient resignation; “but you should have hesitated before believing a story to my disadvantage. i would have been more just to you.”

“there has been no story told,” said margaret. “if there were any stories to tell, they have been kept from me. do not let us pursue this topic, alan, and when we drop it now, let it be forever. it is quite out of the question that we can ever be more to each other than we are now.”

“as you have said it,” he replied, “my only course is a silent acquiescence. painful and disappointing as such a decision is to me, since it is your decision i have no word to say against it. but with regard to the lightness and insincerity you have charged me with, i have a right to speak and i must.”

reassured by margaret’s assertion that no one had maligned him to her, he felt strong to defend himself, and it was, therefore, in the most urgent tone that he said:

“i feel it hard, margaret, very hard, that you should harbor such opinions of me, when my thoughts of you have been all tenderness and trust. was it not enough that you should deprive me, at one blow, of the hope that i have cherished as my dearest wish for the future, without adding to the bitterness of that disappointment, the still keener one of feeling that i must endure your contempt?”

there was no doubt of his earnestness now. he was fired by a genuine interest, and he longed to recover the good opinion of this spirited, high-souled girl more than he had longed for anything for years.

“you were never unreasonable, margaret,” he went on, “and therefore i feel sure i may rely upon you to give me your reasons for this change toward me—for you will not deny that you are changed.”

“why talk about it, alan? i like you very well. i suppose you’re as much to be believed in as other men. the mistake i made was in supposing you to be superior to them. you would not like the idea of being on a pedestal, i know; so be content, and let us say no more about the matter.”

“excuse me, if i cannot consent,” he answered, gravely. “it is no light matter to me to lose your regard; and when you remember that i have long hoped to make you my wife, some day, i think you will feel that that fact creates an indebtedness on your part to me, and gives me the right to demand an explanation from you.”

his tone of conscious rectitude and the reproachful sadness of the eyes he turned upon her, made margaret so indignant and angry that she said, with some heat:

“we are playing a farce, alan, and it had better come to an end. i am perfectly willing to accord you all the credit you deserve. you are a charming man of the world,” she added, falling into a lighter tone, “and i admire your manners immensely. i am perfectly willing to continue to be on good terms with you, but there must be certain limitations to our friendship. i could not consent to a return to the old intimacy, and you must not expect it.”

“but why?” he said, urgently. “i insist that you tell me. margaret, remember how important this is to me; remember how i love you!”

and in a certain way his words were true. he felt himself, at this moment, really in love. now that he found himself likely to lose her, this handsome, spirited, honest-hearted girl, grew inestimably more dear to him. he longed to be able to control her—to settle it, then and there, that she was to be his own. so it was with the fire of real feeling in his eyes that he drew nearer and eagerly sought her averted gaze, and even ventured to take her hand. but the moment she met that look, and felt that touch, margaret sprang to her feet and half involuntarily took her position behind a large chair, where she stood, resting upon its high back and looking at him with an expression of defiant scorn.

“margaret,” he said, rising too, and bending upon her again that eager look that galled her so, “do you shrink from my mere look and touch? there must be a reason for your manner, and that reason i must and will know.”

“you shall!” she answered, excitedly, unable to bear his tone of injured superiority any longer. “i witnessed a scene between you and mrs. vere in the conservatory at the ball that night, that made me despise you. it revealed your true nature to me, at a glance, and i am glad of it. i should not have spoken of it. i could have managed to hold my peace and meet you calmly as a casual acquaintance; but that you would not have. but when you presume to offer me what you are pleased to call your devotion, with the memory of that scene in my mind, i can be silent no longer. and now,” she went on, after an instant’s pause, “i have spoken, and we understand each other. let the whole subject be dropped just here, forever.”

she had avoided looking at him, as she spoke, and even now she hesitated to meet his eyes. there was a moment’s deep stillness, and then, to the relief of both, cousin eugenia’s silken robes were heard sweeping down the staircase.

she entered, and the room’s whole atmosphere changed. her graceful toilet, well-turned phrases and studious correctness of demeanor, recalled the usages of the world in which they lived, and margaret and decourcy resumed their seats and began to talk of snow-storms and sleigh-rides, following cousin eugenia’s lead.

when margaret presently glanced at mr. decourcy, she saw that he was very pale, but that was all. he had never been more self-possessed.

when he rose to go, mrs. gaston, seeing that something was amiss, discreetly walked over to the window for a moment, and decourcy, taking a step toward margaret, said in a low tone:

“you have been very hard to me, margaret, and have judged me hastily. the time may come when you will see that it is so, and for that time i shall wait.”

he said good-bye then, without offering his hand, and margaret, to her amazement, found herself feeling like a culprit. there was such an air of gentle magnanimousness about mr. decourcy, that it made her feel quite contrite. in exciting which sensation mr. decourcy had obtained exactly the result he had aimed at.