He never wore his
heart upon his sleeve, but deep within him was that true affection which
caused him to worship her as his idol. To him she was peerless among
women, and her beauty was unequalled. Her piquant mischievousness amused
him. As a girl, she had always been fond of tantalising him, and did so
now. Yet he knew her fine character; how deeply devoted she was to her
afflicted father, and how full of discomfort was her dull life, now that
she had exchanged her school for the same roof which covered Sir Henry's
second wife. Indeed, this latter event was the common talk of all who
knew the family. They sighed and pitied poor Sir Henry. It was all very
sad, they said; but there their sympathy ended. During Walter's absence
abroad something had occurred. What that something was he had not yet
determined. Gabrielle was not exactly the same towards him as she used
to be. His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed,
he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had
staggered him.

He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he
had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed
him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had
made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking,
clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his
dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his
idol?

She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for
the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it.

"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded.
"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at
home in the afternoon?"

"No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I
shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait
for you there."

"Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in
secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?"

"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a
strong reason."

"You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems."

"My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you,
Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well
know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think."

"And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked.

She hesi