"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned seriously. "He was
in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to help him."

"What trouble?" I inquired.

"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."

"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient cause for
trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the words, "in you."

"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning her face
toward me.

"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which should have
pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and looked at me eagerly;
"but I might guess."

"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she asked.

"You," I responded laconically.

"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble to any
man, but to Sir John Manners--well, if he intends to keep up these
meetings with you it would be better for his peace and happiness that he
should get him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than
on this earth."

"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl replied, tossing