should do if--if anything happened to part us."

"But nothing ever will happen," he said; "nothing can part us but
death. I know what would happen to me if I lost you, Beatrice."

"What?" she asked, looking up into the handsome, kindly face.

"I should not kill myself," he said, "for I hold life to be a sacred
gift; but I should go where the face of no other woman would smile upon
me. Why do you talk so dolefully, Beatrice? Let us change the subject.
Tell me where you would like to go when we are married--shall it be
France, Italy, or Spain?"

"Would nothing ever make you love me less, Hubert?" she asked. "Neither
poverty nor sickness?"

"No," he replied; "nothing you can think of or invent."

"Nor disgrace?" she continued; but he interrupted her half angrily.

"Hush!" he said, "I do not like such a word upon your lips; never say
it again. What disgrace can touch you? You are too pure, too good."

She turned from him, and he fancied a low moan came from her trembling
lips.

"You are tired, and--pray forgive me, Beatrice--nervous too," said Lord
Airlie; "I will be your doctor. You shall lie down here upon this
couch. I will place it where you can see the sun set in the west, and
I will read to you something that will drive all fear away. I thought
during dinner that you looked ill and worn."

Gently enough he drew the couch to the window, Lady Earle watching him
the while with smiling face. He induced Beatrice to lie down, and then
turned her face to the garden where the setting sun was pleasantly
gilding the flowers.

"Now, you have something pleasant to look at," said Lord Airlie, "and
you shall have something pleasant to listen to. I am going to read
some of Schiller's 'Marie Stuart.'"

He sat at her feet, and held her white hands in his. He read the
grand, stirring words that at times seemed like the ring of martial
music, and again like the dirge of a soul in despair.

His clear, rich voice sounded pleasantly in the evening calm.
Beatrice's eyes lingered on the western sky all aflame, but her
thoughts were with Hugh Fernely.

What could she do? If she could but temporize with him, if she could
but pacify him, for a time, until she was married, all would be safe.
He would not dare to talk of claiming Lady Airlie it would be vain if
he did. Besides, she would persuade Lord Airlie to go abroad; and,
seeing all pursuit useless, Hugh would surely give her up. Even at the
very worst, if Hube