"The offer is like you," he said with suppressed feeling; "but the
worries of which I spoke just now are not money troubles. I do not
pretend to deny that my affairs are embarrassed, and have been for so
long that entanglement has become their normal state; but if they were
ever so much more desperate, I could not afford to trade upon your
generosity. No, Mrs. Branston, that is just the very last thing in this
world that I could consent to do."
"It is very cruel of you to say that," Adela answered, with the tears
gathering in her clear blue eyes, and with a little childish look of
vexation, which would have seemed infinitely charming in the eyes of a
man who loved her. "There can be no reason for your saying this, except
that you do not think me worthy of your confidence--that you despise me
too much to treat me like a friend. If I were that Mr. Fenton now, whom
you care for so much, you would not treat me like this."
"I never borrowed a sixpence from Gilbert Fenton in my life, though I
know that his purse is always open to me. But friendship is apt to end
when money transactions begin. Believe me, I feel your goodness, Mrs.
Branston, your womanly generosity; but it is my own unworthiness that
comes between me and your kindness. I can accept nothing from you but the
sympathy which it is your nature to give to all who need it.
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