gaged--and 'Oh!
what could Mr. Morris think of her, and what would Horace
think?' cried poor Maria, filled with remorse. And Mr. Morris
cared for her so much; he had been so miserable when she had
told him they must part, and said she was the only woman he
had seen that he could care for; and that was the only
reproach he had uttered, though she had treated him so badly.
And Horace did not care for her one bit now--she could see it,
she knew it, he was tired of her, and she was not clever
enough for him, and would never make him a good wife. All this
our little-reticent Maria had sobbed out in answer to Mrs.
Vavasour's sympathising questions, with many entreaties to
know what she had better do next. Mrs. Vavasour could only
advise her to say to Horace just what she had said to her, and
she had sufficient confidence in Maria's courage and good
sense to trust that she would do so now, when matters had
evidently come to a crisis. But it was with the keenest
interest she awaited the end of their conversation.

She had not to wait very long. In a few minutes she saw Maria
coming quickly across the lawn; she passed through the window
and the room without looking up or speaking, and, with a
little sob, disappeared. Graham followed more slowly, and
sitting down by the table, moodily watched his sister's
fingers moving rapidly to and fro.

"That is all over," he said at last.

"What is all over?" inquired Mrs. Vavasour.

"Everything between Maria and me. We have agreed upon one
thing at last, at any rate."

"I am sure it is for the best, Horace," said Mrs. Vavasour,
looking at him with her kind, gentle eyes.

"I don't see how anything should be for the best when one has
behaved like a brute, and knows it," he answered, getting up,
and beginning to walk up and down the room.

"Is it you who have been behaving like a brute, Horace? I
cannot fancy that."

"I don't know why not," he answered gloomily; then, pausing in
his walk, "No one knew of our engagement except ourselves and
Aunt Barbara?" he asked.

"No one else was told."

"Well, then, no great harm is done, so far as gossip goes. You
had better write to Aunt Barbara. I shall go abroad at once."

"To this town on the Mediterranean?"

"Yes, I shall write to-night to B----; and I will start by the
seven o'clock train to-morrow morning for London. No one need
get up; I will tell Jane to let me have some breakfast."

"We shall hear from you?"

"Yes, I will w