Walker, the hearty English lady who did her ten miles a day, cried
out, as she tramped by, blooming and bedraggled:

"Bless me, are you off?"

"Yes, thank Heaven!" answered Christie; but as she spoke Mr.
Fletcher came down the steps looking as wan and heavy-eyed as if a
sleepless night had been added to his day's defeat. Leaning in at
the window, he asked abruptly, but with a look she never could
forget:

"Will nothing change your answer, Christie?"

"Nothing."

His eyes said, "Forgive me," but his lips only said, "Good-by," and
the carriage rolled away.

Then, being a woman, two great tears fell on the hand still red with
the lingering grasp he had given it, and Christie said, as pitifully
as if she loved him:

"He has got a heart, after all, and perhaps I might have been glad
to fill it if he had only shown it to me sooner. Now it is too
late."