ut I can't help fearing it isn't right to condemn a young
man forever because he was led away as a boy."

"I can't discuss it with you, Maggie--it's a degradation even to speak
of him before a good woman. You must rely upon my judgment. Polly
must put him out of her head."

"But what am I to tell her? You can't make a woman like our Pauline
put a man out of her life when she loves him unless you give her a
reason that satisfies her. And if you don't give ME a reason that
satisfies me how can I give HER a reason that will satisfy her?"

"I'll talk to her," said the colonel, after a long pause. "She
must--she shall give him up, mother."

"I've tried to persuade her to go to visit Olivia," continued Mrs.
Gardiner. "But she won't. And she doesn't want me to ask Olivia here."

"I'll ask Olivia before I speak to her."

Mrs. Gardiner went up to her daughter's room--it had been her
play-room, then her study, and was now graduated into her sitting-room.
She was dreaming over a book--Tennyson's poems. She looked up, eyes
full of hope.

"He has some good reason, dear," began her mother.

"What is it?" demanded Pauline.

"I can't tell you any more than I've told you already," replied her
mother, trying not to show her feelings in her face.

"Why does he treat me--treat you--like two naughty little children?"
said Pauline, impatiently tossing the book on the table.

"Pauline!" Her mother's voice was sharp in reproof. "How can you
place any one before your father!"

Pauline was silent--she had dropped the veil over herself. "I--I--where
did you place father--when--when--" Her eyes were laughing again.

"You know he'd never oppose your happiness, Polly." Mrs. Gardiner was
smoothing her daughter's turbulent red-brown hair. "You'll only have to
wait under a little more trying circumstances. And if he's right, the
truth will come out. And if he's mistaken and John's all you think
him, then that will come out."

Pauline knew her father was not opposing her through tyranny or pride
of opinion or sheer prejudice; but she felt that this was another case
of age's lack of sympathy with youth, felt it with all the intensity of
infatuated seventeen made doubly determined by opposition and
concealment. The next evening he and she were walking together in the
garden. He suddenly put his arm round her and drew her close to him
and kissed her.

"You know I shouldn't if I didn't think it the only course--don't you,
Pa