is free," Beatrice
answered petulantly.

They walked on a few yards and then he spoke in another tone--the
meaning of the assignation he had overheard in the churchyard grew clear
to him now.

"I believe that I have to congratulate you, Miss Granger," he said,
"and I do so very heartily. It is not everybody who is so fortunate as
to----"

Beatrice stopped, and half turning faced him.

"What _do_ you mean, Mr. Bingham?" she said. "I do not understand your
dark sayings."

"Mean! oh, nothing particular, except that I wished to congratulate you
on your engagement."

"My engagement! what engagement?"

"It seems that there is some mistake," he said, and struggle as he might
to suppress it his tone was one of relief. "I understood that you had
become engaged to be married to Mr. Owen Davies. If I am wrong I am sure
I apologise."

"You are quite wrong, Mr. Bingham; I don't know who put such a notion
into your head, but there is no truth in it."

"Then allow me to congratulate you on there being no truth in it. You
see that is the beauty of nine affairs matrimonial out of ten--there
are two or more sides of them. If they come off the amiable and
disinterested observer can look at the bright side--as in this case,
lots of money, romantic castle by the sea, gentleman of unexceptional
antecedents, &c., &c, &c. If, on the other hand, they don't, cause can
still be found for thankfulness--lady might do better after all, castle
by the sea rather draughty and cold in spring, gentlemen most estimable
but perhaps a little dull, and so on, you see."

There was a note of mockery about his talk which irritated Beatrice
exceedingly. It was not like Mr. Bingham to speak so. It was not even
the way that a gentleman out of his teens should speak to a lady on such
a subject. He knew this as well as she did and was secretly ashamed of
himself. But the truth must out: though Geoffrey did not admit it even
to himself he was bitterly and profoundly jealous, and jealous people
have no manners. Beatrice could not, however, be expected to know this,
and naturally grew angry.

"I do not quite understand what you are talking about, Mr. Bingham," she
said, putting on her most dignified air, and Beatrice could look rather
alarming. "You have picked up a piece of unfounded gossip and now you
take advantage of it to laugh at me, and to say rude things of Mr.
Davies. It is not kind."

"Oh, no; it was the footsteps, Miss Granger, _and_ the go