"Cousin Roger," she said in a very low voice, "I am very sorry you have
spoken as you have--"

I straightened myself suddenly and looked at her more closely. She had
not moved at all, except her face. A kind of roaring murmur began to
fill my ears.

"Because," said she--and every word of hers now was pain to
me--"because there is but one answer that I can give, which is No."

"Why--" cried I.

"You have spoken very kindly and generously. But--" and at this her
voice began to ring a little--"but I am not what you think me--a maid to
be flung at the head of any man who will choose to take her."

"Cousin!" cried I; and then she was on her feet too, her face all
ablaze.

"Yes, Cousin!" cried she; "and never any more than that. You have acted
very well, Cousin Roger; and I thank you for that compliment--that you
thought it worth while to play the part--and for your great kindness to
a poor country maid. I had thought it to be all over long ago--before
you went away; or I would not have behaved as I have. But since you have
considered it again carefully, and chosen to--to insult me after all; I
have no answer at all to give, except No, a thousand times over."

"Why, Cousin--" I began again.