the stillness until she heard a bell ring, and the drawing-room door
open again, and some one descend the stairs into the hall. She felt
guilty and sorry at the same time. She wished she could do something
by way of compensation. He would not think it was mere heartlessness?
For indeed she had tried. And would she not have done him a far
greater wrong if she had married him without being able to give him her
whole heart?

Nan went to the window; but it was too dark for her to see anything.
She took it for granted he had gone away. She was glad, and ashamed of
herself for being glad. She reproved herself. And then she had a
vague sort of feeling that she would wear sackcloth and ashes--or try
to be ten times kinder to everybody--or do something, anything, no
matter what--to atone for this very unmistakable sense of gladness that
seemed to pervade her whole being. She couldn't help it, because it
was there; but she would do something by way of compensation. And the
first thing she could think of was to go and brush the billiard-table
with such thoroughness that Mr. Tom, when he came home should say he
had never seen it in such good condition before.

That was a roaring party that somewhat later came in--all flushed faces
and high spirits and delight; for they had walked all the way from
Falmer over the downs, under the guidance of the Canadian experience of
Frank King; and they had had wonderful adventures with the snow-drifts;
and the night was beautiful--a crescent moon in the south, and high up
in the south-east the gleaming belt of Orion. And Nan greatly entered
into the joy of these adventurers, and wished to hear more of their
futile efforts at skating; and was asking this one and the other about
everything--until she found Mr. Tom's eyes fixed on her.

'Nan,' said he, with scrutiny and decision, 'you've been in the country
to-day, walking.'

She admitted she had.

'And you had for your luncheon a bit of bread and an apple.'

'I generally take that as a precaution,' Nan said, simply.

'I thought so,' said Mr. Tom, with great satisfaction at his own
shrewdness. 'I can tell in a minute. For you always come back looking
highly pleased with yourself and inclined to be cheeky. I don't like
the look of you when you're too set up. Your tongue gets too sharp.
I'd advise you people to look out.'

Nan's conscience smote her. Was she so glad, then, that even outsiders
saw it in her face? She became gra