think of them), there must
have been at least a moment when she knew that he worshipped her, and
does such knowledge ever fade from a woman's memory?

Irene! Irene! Was she brought nearer to him by her own experience of
heart-trouble? That she had suffered, he could not doubt; impossible
for her to have given her consent to marriage unless she believed
herself in love with the man who wooed her. It could have been no
trifling episode in her life, whatever the story; Irene was not of the
women who yield their hands in jest, in pique, in lighthearted
ignorance. The change visible in her was more, he fancied, than could
be due to the mere lapse of time; during her silences, she had the look
of one familiar with mental conflict, perhaps of one whose pride had
suffered an injury. The one or two glances which he ventured whilst she
was talking with the man who succeeded to his place beside her,
perceived a graver countenance, a reserve such as she had not used with
him; and of this insubstantial solace he made a sort of hope which
winged the sleepless hours till daybreak.

He had permission to call upon Mrs. Borisoff at times alien to polite
routine. Thus, when nearly a week had passed, he sought her company at
midday, and found her idling over a book, her seat by a window which
viewed the Thames and the broad Embankment with its plane trees, and
London beyond the water, picturesque in squalid hugeness through summer
haze and the sagging smoke of chimneys numberless. She gave a languid
hand, pointed to a chair, gazed at him with embarrassing fixity.

"I don't know about the Castle," were her first words. "Perhaps I shall
give it up."

"You are not serious?"

Piers spoke and looked in dismay; and still she kept her heavy eyes on
him.

"What does it matter to _you_?" she asked carelessly.

"I counted on--on showing you the dales----"

Mrs. Borisoff nodded twice or thrice, and laughed, then pointed to the
prospect through the window.

"This is more interesting. Imagine historians living a thousand years
hence--what would they give to see what we see now!"

"Oh, one often has that thought. It's about the best way of making
ordinary life endurable."

They watched the steamers and barges, silent for a minute or two.

"So you had rather I didn't give up the castle?"

"I should be horribly disappointed."

"Yes--no doubt you would. Why did you come to see me to-day? No, no,
no! The real reason.

"I wanted to talk a