commonplace."

"Not if it was the right sort of man.--Tell me what you think of that
bit." She pointed to a framed drawing. "It's in the valley of Bidassoa."

They talked art for a little, then Rosamund fell into musing, and
presently said:

"Don't you think Norbert has behaved very well."

"How well?"

"I mean, it would have been excusable, perhaps, if he had betrayed a
little unkind feeling toward me. But nothing of the kind, absolutely
nothing. I'm afraid I didn't give him credit for so much manliness.
When he came to Ashtead the second time, of course I understood his
motive at once. He wished to show me that his behaviour at the first
meeting wasn't mere bravado and to assure me that I needn't be afraid
of him. There's a great deal of delicacy in that; it really pleased me."

Bertha Cross was gazing at her friend with a puzzled smile.

"You're a queer girl," she remarked.

"Queer? Why?"

"Do you mean that you were really and truly surprised that Mr. Franks
behaved like a gentleman?"

"Oh, Bertha!" protested the other. "What a word!"

"Well, like a man, then."

"Perhaps I oughtn't to have felt that," admitted Rosamund thoughtfully.
"But I did, and it meant a good deal. It shows how very right I was
when I freed myself."

"Are you quite sure of that?" asked Bertha, raising her eyebrows and
speaking more seriously than usual.

"I never was more sure of anything."

"Do you know, I can't help thinking it an argument on the other side."

Rosamund looked her friend in the eyes.

"Suppose it means that you were altogether mistaken about Mr. Franks?"
went on Bertha, in the same pleasant tone between jest and earnest.

"I wasn't mistaken in my own feeling," said Rosamund in her melodious
undertone.

"No; but your feeling, you have always said, was due to a judgment you
formed of Mr. Franks' character and motives. And now you confess that
it looks very much as if you had judged him wrongly."

Rosamund smiled and shook her head.

"Do you know," asked Bertha, after a pause, "that he has been coming to
our house lately?"

"You never mentioned it. But why shouldn't he go to your house?"

"Rather, why should he?" asked Bertha, with a laugh. "Don't trouble to
guess. The reason was plain enough. He came to talk about you."

"Oh!" exclaimed the listener with amused deprecation.

"There's no doubt of it; no--shadow--of--doubt. In fact, we've had very
pleasant little chats about you. Of course I said all