he earnestness with which she spoke these words.
That she was yielding, however, there could be little doubt, and
whatever doubt remained in his mind was removed on the following day
in the park under the lime-trees, where they had been sitting for
some time, talking indolently--at least, Ulick had been talking
indolently of the various singers who had been engaged. He had done
most of the talking, watching the trees and the spire showing between
them, enjoying the air, and the colour of the day, a little heedless
of his companion, until looking up, startled by some break in her
voice, he saw that she was crying.

"Evelyn, what is the matter? You are crying. I never saw you cry
before."

She laughed a little, but there was a good deal of grief in her
laughter, and confessed herself to be very unhappy. Life was proving
too much for her, and when he questioned her as to her meaning, she
admitted in broken answers that his departure with the company was
more than she could bear.

"Why, then, not come with us? You'll sign the agreement?"

And they walked towards Bayswater together, talking from time to
time, Ulick trying not to say anything which would disturb her
resolution, though he had heard Owen say that once she had made a
promise she never went back upon it.

There was all next day to be disposed of, but he would be very busy,
and she would be busy too; she would have to make arrangements, so
perhaps it would be better they should not meet.

"Then, at the railway station the day after to-morrow," and he bade
her goodbye at her door.

Owen was in his study writing.

"I didn't know you had returned, Asher."

"I came back this afternoon," and he was on the point of adding, "and
saw you with Evelyn as I drove through the park." But the admission
was so painful a one to make that it died upon his lips, finding
expression only in a look of suffering--a sort of scared look, which
told Ulick that something had happened. Could it be that Owen had
seen them in the park sitting under the limes? That long letter on
the writing-table, which Owen put away so mysteriously--could it be
to Evelyn? Ulick had guessed rightly. Owen had seen them in the park,
and he was writing to Evelyn telling her that he could bear a great
deal, but it was cruel and heartless for her to sit with Ulick under
the same trees. He had stopped in the middle of the letter
remembering that it might prevent her from going away with Ulick,
and so t