is proof of her affection, but he did not say
so. He clasped her hand a little tighter, drew her closer to his side,
and kissed her, but the subject dropped between them into a silence
filled with emotion. John could not think of anything but the trial of
the coming day. Jane was pondering two circumstances that seemed to have
changed her point of view. Do as she would, she could not regard things
as she had done. Of a stubborn race and family, she had hitherto
regarded her word as inviolable, her resolves, if once declared, as
beyond recall. She quite understood Lord and Lady Harlow's long
resentment against their son, and she knew instinctively that her
uncle's extreme self-denial for the purpose of improving the Harlow
estate was to say to his heir, "See how I have loved you, in spite of my
silence."

Now Jane had declared her mind positively to John on certain questions
between them, and it never occurred to her that retraction was possible.
Or if it did occur, she considered it a weakness to be instantly
conquered. Neither Jane Harlow nor Jane Hatton could say and then unsay.
And she was proud of this racial and family characteristic, and
frequently recalled it in the motto of her house--_"I say! I do!"_

It is evident then that some strong antagonistic feeling would be
necessary to break down this barrier raised by a false definition of
honor and yet the circumstances that initially assailed it were of
ordinary character. The first happened a few weeks previously. Jane had
gone out early to do some household shopping and was standing just
within the open door of the shop where she had made her purchases.
Suddenly she heard John's clear, joyous laugh mingling with the clatter
of horses' feet. The sound was coming near and nearer and in a moment
or two John passed on his favorite riding-horse and with him was his
nephew Stephen Hatton on a pretty pony suitable to his size. John was
happy, Stephen was happy, and _she! She_ had absolutely no share in
their pleasure. They were not thinking of her. She was outside their
present life.

An intense jealousy of the boy took possession of her. She went home in
a passion of envy and suspicion. She was a good rider, but John in these
late years had never found time to give her a gallop, and indeed had
persuaded her to sell her pretty riding-horse and outfit. Yet Stephen
had a pony and she was sure John must have bought it. Stephen must have
been at the mill early. _Why?_ Th