r all she was so pale. 'It sounds as if something had
altered. You're my oldest friend, and won't you always be so? Whatever
you're going to tell me, surely it doesn't prevent us from being
friends, just the same as always?'

He had not seen her in her weakness, the night before last. As little
as he could imagine that, was he able to estimate the strength with
which she now redeemed her womanly dignity. His face told her what he
had to disclose. No question now of proving herself superior to common
feelings; it was Sidney who made appeal to her, and her heart went
forth to grant him all he desired.

'Jane--dear, good Jane--you remember what I said to you in the garden
at Danbury--that I had forgotten her. I thought it was true. But you
know what a terrible thing has befallen her. I should be less than a
man if I could say that she is nothing to me.'

'Have you spoken to her?'

'I have asked her to be my wife. Jane, if I had come to you yesterday,
before going to her, and had told you what I meant to do, and explained
all I felt, how the love of years ago had grown in me again, wouldn't
you have given me a friendly hand?'

'Just like I do now. Do you think I have forgotten one night when she
stood by me and saved me from cruel treatment, and then nursed me when
I fell ill?'

Neither of them had the habit of making long speeches. They understood
each other--very nearly; sufficiently, at all events, to make the bond
of sympathy between them stronger than ever. Jane was misled a little,
for she thought that here was the explanation of Sidney's withdrawing
his word to her grandfather; doubtless he heard of the calamity when it
happened. But on a more essential point she fell into no misconception.
Did Sidney desire that she should?

He held her hand until she gently drew it away.

'You will go up and tell grandfather,' she said, gravely; then added,
before he could speak, 'But I'll just see him first for a minute. He
hasn't been out of his room this morning yet. Please wait here.'

She left him, and Sidney fell back on his chair, woebegone, distracted.

Michael, brooding sorrowfully, at first paid no heed to Jane when she
entered his room. It was not long since he had risen, and his simple
breakfast, scarcely touched, was still on the table.

'Grandfather, Mr. Kirkwood is here, and wishes to speak to you.'

He collected himself, and, regarding her, became aware that she was
strongly moved.

'Wishes to see me