discussed to the exclusion of anything more personal--and his measured
language helped to still her disquieted heart and brain. Had not her own
sadness been what it was she must have observed his embarrassment. At
last he abruptly changed the subject.

'I am glad you are pleased with my little present,' he said. 'The truth
is that I brought it to propitiate 'ee, and to get you to help me out of
a mighty difficulty.'

It was inconceivable to Phyllis that this independent bachelor--whom she
admired in some respects--could have a difficulty.

'Phyllis--I'll tell you my secret at once; for I have a monstrous secret
to confide before I can ask your counsel. The case is, then, that I am
married: yes, I have privately married a dear young belle; and if you
knew her, and I hope you will, you would say everything in her praise.
But she is not quite the one that my father would have chose for me--you
know the paternal idea as well as I--and I have kept it secret. There
will be a terrible noise, no doubt; but I think that with your help I may
get over it. If you would only do me this good turn--when I have told my
father, I mean--say that you never could have married me, you know, or
something of that sort--'pon my life it will help to smooth the way
vastly. I am so anxious to win him round to my point of view, and not to
cause any estrangement.'

What Phyllis replied she scarcely knew, or how she counselled him as to
his unexpected situation. Yet the relief that his announcement brought
her was perceptible. To have confided her trouble in return was what her
aching heart longed to do; and had Humphrey been a woman she would
instantly have poured out her tale. But to him she feared to confess;
and there was a real reason for silence, till a sufficient time had
elapsed to allow her lover and his comrade to get out of harm's way.

As soon as she reached home again she sought a solitary place, and spent
the time in half regretting that she had not gone away, and in dreaming
over the meetings with Matthaus Tina from their beginning to their end.
In his own country, amongst his own countrywomen, he would possibly soon
forget her, even to her very name.

Her listlessness was such that she did not go out of the house for
several days. There came a morning which broke in fog and mist, behind
which the dawn could be discerned in greenish grey; and the outlines of
the tents, and the rows of horses at the ropes. The smoke