tes. The mere fact that Victoria had
been brought up amongst people with whom he had nothing in common would
not have deterred Austen Vane from pressing his suit; considerations of
honour had stood in the way, and hope had begun to whisper that these
might, in the end, be surmounted. Once they had disappeared, and she
loved him, that were excuse and reason enough.

And suddenly the sight of Victoria with a probable suitor--who at
once had become magnified into an accepted suitor--had dispelled hope.
Euphrasia! Euphrasia had been deceived as he had, by a loving kindness
and a charity that were natural. But what so natural (to one who had
lived the life of Austen Vane) as that she should marry amongst those
whose ways of life were her ways? In the brief time in which he had
seen her and this other man, Austen's quickened perceptions had detected
tacit understanding, community of interest, a habit of thought and
manner,--in short, a common language, unknown to him, between the two.
And, more than these, the Victoria of the blissful excursions he had
known was changed as she had spoken to him--constrained, distant, apart;
although still dispensing kindness, going out of her way to bring Hilary
home, and to tell him of Hilary's accident. Rumour, which cannot be
confined in casks or bottles, had since informed Austen Vane that Mr.
Rangely had spent the day with Victoria, and had remained at Fairview
far into the evening; rumour went farther (thanks to Mrs. Pomfret) and
declared the engagement already an accomplished fact. And to Austen,
in the twilight in front of Jabe Jenney's, the affair might well have
assumed the proportions of an intimacy of long standing rather than that
of the chance acquaintance of an hour. Friends in common, modes of life
in common, and incidents in common are apt to sweep away preliminaries.

Such were Austen's thoughts as he drove to Fairview that September
afternoon when the leaves were turning their white backs to the
northwest breeze. The sun was still high, and the distant hills and
mountains were as yet scarce stained with blue, and stood out in
startling clearness against the sky. Would he see her? That were a pain
he scarce dared contemplate.

He reached the arched entrance, was on the drive. Here was the path
again by which she had come down the hillside; here was the very stone
on which she had stood--awaiting him. Why? Why had she done that?
Well-remembered figure amidst the yellow leav