Mr. Grim," said she, visibly struggling for
calmness. "And I am perhaps more to blame
than you."

"Blame," muttered he, "why are you to blame?"

"Because I do not love you; although I sometimes
feared that this might come. But then again
I persuaded myself that it could not be so."

He took a step toward the door, laid his hand
on the knob, and gazed down before him.

"Bertha," began he, slowly, raising his head,
"you have always disapproved of me, you have
despised me in your heart, but you thought you
would be doing a good work if you succeeded
in making a man of me."

"You use strong language," answered she,
hesitatingly; "but there is truth in what you
say."

Again there was a long pause, in which the
ticking of the old parlor clock grew louder and
louder.

"Then," he broke out at last, "tell me before
we part if I can do nothing to gain--I will not
say your love--but only your regard? What