her heart grew faint with fear; she was as far as
ever from finding herself freed from Hugh Fernely.

Lord Airlie, on his arrival, was startled by the change in her
brilliant face. Yet he was flattered by it. He thought how intensely
she must love him if his absence could affect her so strongly. He
kissed her pale face over and over again, declaring that he would not
leave her any more--no one else knew how to take care of her.

They were all pleased to welcome him for every one liked Lord Airlie,
and the family circle did not seem complete without him. That very
night he had an interview with Lord Earle and besought him to allow the
marriage to take place as soon as possible. He had been miserable away
from Beatrice, he declared, and he thought she looked pale and grave.
Would Lord Earle be willing to say November, or perhaps the latter end
of October?

"My daughter must arrange the time herself" said Lord Earle; "whatever
day she chooses will meet with my approval."

Lord Airlie went to the drawing room where he had left Beatrice, and
told her Lord Earle's answer; she smiled, but he saw the white lips
quiver as she did so.

Only one month since his passionate, loving words would have made the
sweetest music to her; she listened and tried to look like herself, but
her heart was cold with vague, unutterable dread.

"The fourteenth of October"--clever Lord Airlie, by some system of
calculation known only to himself, persuaded Beatrice that that was the
"latter end of the month."

"Not another word," he said, gayly. "I will go and tell Lord Earle.
Do not say afterward that you have changed your mind, as many ladies
do. Beatrice, say to me, 'Hubert, I promise to marry you on the
fourteenth of October.'"

She repeated the words after him.

"It will be almost winter," he added; "the flowers will have faded, the
leaves will have fallen from the trees; yet no summer day will ever be
so bright to me as that."

She watched him quit the room, and a long, low cry came from her lips.
Would it ever be? She went to the window and looked at the trees.
When the green leaves lay dead she would be Lord Airlie's wife, or
would the dark cloud of shame and sorrow have fallen, hiding her
forever from his sight?

Ah, if she had been more prudent! How tame and foolish, how
distasteful the romance she had once thought delightful seemed now! If
she had but told all to Lord Earle!

It was too late now! Yet, despite the de