o friend of yours would wish it. You do not
know the selfishness--brutal!--of these people of birth, as they call
it.'

'I have met with nothing but kindness here,' said Evan.

'Then go while you can feel that,' she answered; 'for it cannot last
another hour. Here is the rose.' She broke it from the stem and handed it
to him. 'You may wear that, and they are not so likely to call you an
adventurer, and names of that sort. I am hardly considered a lady by
them.'

An adventurer! The full meaning of the phrase struck Evan's senses when
he was alone. Miss Bonner knew something of his condition, evidently.
Perhaps it was generally known, and perhaps it was thought that he had
come to win Rose for his worldly advantage! The idea was overwhelmingly
new to him. Up started self-love in arms. He would renounce her.

It is no insignificant contest when love has to crush self-love utterly.
At moments it can be done. Love has divine moments. There are times also
when Love draws part of his being from self-love, and can find no support
without it.

But how could he renounce her, when she came forth to him,--smiling,
speaking freshly and lightly, and with the colour on her cheeks which
showed that she had done her part? How could he retract a step?

'I have told Mama, Evan. That's over. She heard it first from me.'

'And she?'

'Dear Evan, if you are going to be sensitive, I'll run away. You that
fear no danger, and are the bravest man I ever knew! I think you are
really trembling. She will speak to Papa, and then--and then, I suppose,
they will both ask you whether you intend to give me up, or no. I'm
afraid you'll do the former.'

'Your mother--Lady Jocelyn listened to you, Rose? You told her all?'

'Every bit.'

'And what does she think of me?'

'Thinks you very handsome and astonishing, and me very idiotic and
natural, and that there is a great deal of bother in the world, and that
my noble relatives will lay the blame of it on her. No, dear, not all
that; but she talked very sensibly to me, and kindly. You know she is
called a philosopher: nobody knows how deep-hearted she is, though. My
mother is true as steel. I can't separate the kindness from the sense, or
I would tell you all she said. When I say kindness, I don't mean any "Oh,
my child," and tears, and kisses, and maundering, you know. You mustn't
mind her thinking me a little fool. You want to know what she thinks of
you. She said nothing to hurt you, Evan,