scornful. Mingled with this mortification was genuine regret, for, so far as he was capable of loving any one, he loved his fair young cousin. "You profess to love Uncle John, and yet you would disappoint his cherished hope!" he returned. "Is it his cherished hope?" "There is no doubt about it. He has spoken to me more than once on the subject. Feeling that his end is near, he wishes to leave you in charge of a protector." "I can protect myself," said Florence, proudly. "You think so. You do not consider the hapless lot of a penniless girl in a cold and selfish world." "Penniless?" repeated Florence, in an accent of surprise. "Yes, penniless. Our uncle's bequest to you is conditional upon your acceptance of my hand." "Has he said this?" asked Florence, sinking into an armchair, with a helpless look. "He has told me so more than once," returned Curtis, smoothly. "You don't know how near to his heart this marriage is. I know what you would say: If the property comes to me I could come to your assistance, but I am expressly prohibited from doing so. I have pleaded with my uncle in your behalf, but in vain." Florence was too clear-sighted not to penetrate his falsehood. "If my uncle's heart is hardened against me," she said, "I shall be too wise to turn to you. I am to understand, then, that my choice lies between poverty and a union with you?" "You have stated it correctly, Florence." "Then," said Florence, arising, "I will not hesitate. I shrink from poverty, for I have been reared in luxury, but I will sooner live in a hovel--" "Or a tenement house," interjected Curtis, with a sneer. "Yes, or a tenement house, than become the wife of one I loathe." "Girl, you shall bitterly repent that word!" said Curtis, stung to fury.