It was unmanly of him--and I will pay him the
compliment of saying wholly unlike him."
I stood aghast. Poor Stuart was being blamed for my act. He must be
set right at once, however unpleasant it might be for me.
"He--he didn't do that," I said, slowly; "it was I. I wrote that bit
of nonsense; and he--well, he was mad because I did it, and said he'd
like to kill any man who ill-treated you; and he made me promise
never to touch upon your life again."
"May I ask why you did that?" she asked, and I was glad to note that
there was no displeasure in her voice--in fact, she seemed to cheer
up wonderfully when I told her that it was I, and not Stuart, who had
subjected her to the misadventure.
"Because I was angry with you," I answered. "You were ruining my
friend with your continued acts of rebellion: he was successful; now
he is ruined. He thinks of you day and night--he wants you for his
heroine; he wants to make you happy, but he wants you to be happy in
your own way; and when he thinks he has discovered your way, he works
along that line, and all of a sudden, by some act wholly unforeseen,
and, if I may say so, unforeseeable, you treat him and his work with
contempt, draw yourself out of it--and he has to begin again.
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