mself whether Maud's was a passionless nature, or
whether it was possible that her reserve had the same origin as his
own. The latter he felt to be unlikely; sometimes there was a pressure
of her hands as their lips just touched, the indication, he believed,
of feeling held in restraint for uncertain reasons. She welcomed him,
too, with a look which he in vain endeavoured to respond to--a look of
sudden relief from weariness, of gentle illumination; it smote him like
a reproach. When the summer had set in, he was glad to change the still
room for the open air; they walked frequently about Regent's Park, and
lingered till after sunset.

One evening, when it was dull and threatened rain, they returned to the
house sooner than usual. Waymark would have taken his leave at the
door, as he ordinarily did, but Maud begged him to enter, if only for a
few minutes. It was not quite nine o'clock, and Mrs. Enderby was from
home.

He seated himself, but Maud remained standing irresolutely. Waymark
glanced at her from under his eyebrows. He did not find it easy to
speak; they had both been silent since they left the park, with the
exception of the few words exchanged at the door.

"Will you let me sit here?" Maud asked suddenly, pushing a footstool
near to his chair, and kneeling upon it.

He smiled and nodded.

"When will they begin the printing?" she asked, referring to his book,
which was now in the hands of the publisher who had undertaken it.

"Not for some months. It can't come out till the winter season."

"If it should succeed, it will make a great difference in your
position, won't it?"

"It might," he replied, looking away.

She sat with her eyes fixed on the ground. She wished to continue, but
something stayed her.

"I don't much count upon it," Waymark said, when he could no longer
endure the silence. "We mustn't base any hopes on that."

He rose; the need of changing his attitude seemed imperative.

"Must you go?" Maud asked, looking up at him with eyes which spoke all
that her voice failed to utter.

He moved his head affirmatively, and held out his hand to raise her.
She obeyed his summons, and stood up before him; her eyes had fixed
themselves upon his; he could not avoid their strange gaze.

"Good-bye," he said.

Her free hand rose to his shoulder, upon which it scarcely rested. He
could not escape her eyes, though to meet them tortured him. Her lips
were moving, but he could distinguish no syllabl