you care for Lord Everscourt, Rosie?"

She shook her head at him with a soundless movement of lips shaped to
pronounce a "No."

"But he is a good fellow, I am told, and devoted to you. I don't agree
with Peggy on this question, Rosalind. You have been brought up to
value certain things so highly that you cannot be happy without them,
and if you meet an honest English gentleman who can give them to you,
and love you sincerely into the bargain, I believe that it would be your
best chance of happiness. If you can esteem and respect him, love would
probably follow."

Rosalind dropped her eyes and stood before him drooping and silent.
This was not what she had expected to hear. Never in her most
despondent moods had she believed it possible that Arthur Saville would
advocate her marriage with another; never had she believed that he could
listen unmoved to such a suggestion! The pain at her heart forced her
into speech, and the words faltered forth with unconscious self-
betrayal.

"No, I could never love him. It's impossible! I have no love to give."

"You mean--" began Arthur, and then stopped short, for Rosalind had
lifted her eyes to his in a long, eloquent glance, and in that moment
there were no secrets between them. Rosalind realised the patient,
self-sacrificing love which had kept silence for her sake, and Arthur
Saville knew that all that was best in Rosalind Darcy's nature was given
to him, and that he held the key to the poor starved citadel of her
heart.

"Oh, Rosie!" he cried brokenly, "is it really so? Am I the happy man,
dear? Do you mean that you care for me instead--that that is the reason
why you cannot love him?"

"Always, Arthur, oh, always!" whispered Rosalind brokenly. "Ever since
I was a child! I have twied to get over it, but it is no use. I think
of you all the time; I enjoy nothing if you are not with me. I have
behaved badly to you often, but I have suffered for it afterwards. I
have lain awake cwying half the night when you have been vexed with me
and have gone away without saying good-night."

"Poor child!" sighed Arthur softly. His face was pale, and wore a
troubled expression, very different from that of the ordinary happy
lover who has just listened to such a speech from his lady's lips. "And
I have loved you, too, Rosalind; but I never intended to let you know
it. Perhaps I was wrong, but I doubted my own powers of making you
happy, and thought the best thing I cou