ing rather terrible, that has
shadowed all his life."

"There was; I will tell you in confidence. Richard Carew hushed it all
up, but there were a few of us who _knew_. His quarrel with his uncle
was because he insisted upon marrying a poor governess, a most lovely
and charming lady, instead of the bride his uncle had chosen. He was
disinherited, and his allowance so curtailed that he would have to
leave his regiment; but none of that troubled him in the least. He
adored his fiancee, and was supremely happy, as anyone could see. Then
the tragedy fell. I cannot tell you all the details, probably no one
knows them except his friends the Maitlands and his brother, and uncle
who is now dead. He was out shooting with Maitland, and the other two
were near at hand; and Maitland had repeated something to him his
brother had said, which was a deadly insult to Miss Whitby. He was in
a blind fury, and scarcely knew what he was doing, when he swung round
and fired at a hare behind him...." There was a moment's intense pause
before he finished in a low voice--"and the shot killed the poor girl
he was to have married in a week."

"O, how terrible!..." Ailsa gasped, and went white to the lips. "How
terrible! Poor man! O, poor man!" Tears came into her eyes, and she
turned away to hide them, and for some moments both were silent.

Then Delcombe continued, "It is no wonder that he has been always
reserved and silent. I suppose in a way it killed the part of him that
could be anything else. He just went right away to a strange country,
dropped the double name they had always been proud of, and cut himself
adrift altogether from everything connected with his old life. It is
no doubt his intention to remain apart, and take up the old threads no
more. But I loved his father, and I loved him in my old-fashioned way
which he was not likely to perceive; and when the Royal Geographical
Society offered me a chance of a trip to Rhodesia I took it gladly.
One of my first thoughts, when the decision was finally made and I was
appointed, was, 'Perhaps I shall come across Peter Carew's son.'"

Ailsa rested her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her hand,
still with the glisten of tears in her eyes. "It makes one feel there
is surely a Providence," she told him softly, "for my chance meeting
with you may save him, and that other, from everlasting regret."

A little later, when they went to their separate compartments for the
night, she tha