brief note saying that he could not and ought not to go. This, of
course, threw Mary into a great passion, for she judged him by
herself--a very common but dangerous method of judgment--and thought
that if he felt at all as she did, he would throw prudence to the
winds and come to her, as she knew she would go to him if she could.
It did not occur to her that Brandon knew himself well enough to be
sure he would never go to New Spain if he allowed another grain of
temptation to fall into the balance against him, but would remain in
London to love hopelessly, to try to win a hopeless cause, and end it
all by placing his head upon the block.

It required all his strength, even now, to hold fast his determination
to go to New Spain. He had reached his limit. He had a fund of that
most useful of all wisdom, knowledge of self, and knew his
limitations; a little matter concerning which nine men out of ten go
all their lives in blissless ignorance.

Mary, who was no more given to self-analysis than her pet linnet, did
not appreciate Brandon's potent reasons, and was in a flaming passion
when she received his answer. Rage and humiliation completely
smothered, for the time, her affection, and she said to herself, over
and over again: "I hate the low-born wretch. Oh! to think what I have
permitted!" And tears of shame and repentance came in a flood, as they
have come from yielding woman's eyes since the world was born. Then
she began to doubt his motives. As long as she thought she had given
her gift to one who offered a responsive passion, she was glad and
proud of what she had done, but she had heard of man's pretense in
order to cozen woman out of her favors, and she began to think she had
been deceived. To her the logic seemed irresistible; that if the same
motive lived in his heart, and prompted him, that burned in her