n my mind.
Will you bear with me a few minutes?"

"Yes," I said, "certainly. As long as you please," and I tossed little
pieces of twig over my shoulder, and prepared myself to listen. Oh, my
dears, how defiant women will be, just for the fear of being pitied.

"You must know very well," he continued, "what I am going to say. I have
a right to ask you for an explanation of your conduct for the past few
weeks. People are coupling your name with that of Captain Tyrrell, and
with good reason. You are so changed that I scarcely see a trace of the
Margery I once knew. Child! if you repent of the promise you have given
me, tell me now and I will set you free. I remember the circumstances
under which that promise was given. You, perhaps, exaggerated your own
feelings; you have since renewed your acquaintance with people and ways
of life that suit you best. I will try not to blame you. Speak out at
once, and do not think of me."

The truthful ring of feeling and reproach in his voice startled my ears,
and set my heart struggling for liberty to give an honest response to
this appeal. A few simple words would have been enough, but the
recollection of all that I knew came back too quickly. The conviction of
his insincerity and injustice suddenly bewildered me with anger, keen in
proportion to the desolation I had suffered.

"Sir," said I (we said "sir" for politeness in those days, my dear),
loftily, coldly, and in utter despair, "I will take you at your word.
Let the promise between us be broken from this moment!"

He heaved a great sigh, of relief, I thought, and being near the house
we parted with much politeness. Thus we put an end to our engagement.
Holy and indestructible I had believed it to be; but then I was an
ignorant little fool. People shake hands and say good-bye every day, and
never dream of being so mad as to spoil to-morrow with tears. As for me
I did not wait for to-morrow. That night was piteous with the rain of my
grief. But Grace was at hand to comfort, to counsel, to instruct, which
she did with her own peculiar figures of speech.

"You are a brave little thing!" she said. "I am glad you had spirit to
act on the first notice to quit. It would have been so much more
humiliating to have waited for a forcible ejectment."

And I promised to accompany her to London.

CHAPTER XI.

Mrs. Hill had a pretty little bedizened boudoir, blue silk hangings
elegantly festooned with bird cages; couches and d