The girl did not answer for a time, for she was deeply wounded at his
want of understanding, his non-comprehension of her most unselfish
motives. Presently she turned to him, and said in a hurried tone, for she
could scarcely control herself just then, "Noël, believe me it is for the
best. Good-bye."

Before he had time to answer she had walked swiftly away, and was hid
from his sight by the turn of the road. All had happened so quickly, the
momentous decision had been made so entirely without effort on his part,
that his breath was fairly taken away. But, beneath all his surprise and
wounded pride was a feeling of relief scarce acknowledged to himself,
though his first exclamation was one of distressed self-love, as he
exclaimed angrily, "She has no feeling; she does not care."

Ah! M. Bois-le-Duc, your training of Noël McAllister was at fault
somewhere. You grounded him thoroughly in Latin and the classics, but you
taught him little of the study of human character, that most profoundly
interesting of all studies. Had your teaching been different, Noël
McAllister might have had a different estimation of the depths of a
nature like Marie Gourdon's, of a woman's true unselfish devotion. He
might have made an effort to keep what he had already won--which was
above all price. Had your teaching not failed in this one essential
point, Noël McAllister's life and career would have been far different.
Well for him had it been so!




CHAPTER VII.