her guests, and
that--she--she supposed they would soon have to know.

"Well, as I want you to marry me in six weeks," said Marsham, joyously,
"I suppose they will."

"Six weeks!" She gasped. "Oh, how unreasonable!"

"Dearest!--A fortnight would do for frocks. And whom have we to consult
but ourselves? I know you have no near relations. As for cousins, it
doesn't take long to write them a few notes, and ask them to
the wedding."

Diana sighed.

"My only cousins are the Mertons. They are all in Barbadoes but Fanny."

Her tone changed a little. In her thoughts, she added, hurriedly: "I
sha'n't have any bridesmaids!"

Marsham, discreetly, made no reply. Personally, he hoped that Miss
Merton's engagements might take her safely back to Barbadoes before the
wedding-day. But if not, he and his would no doubt know how to deal with
her--civilly and firmly--as people must learn to deal with their
distasteful relations.

Meanwhile on Diana's mind there had descended a sudden cloud of thought,
dimming the ecstasy of her joy. The February day was dying in a
yellowish dusk, full of beauty. They were walking along a narrow avenue
of tall limes which skirted the Beechcote lands, and took them past the
house. Above their heads the trees met in a brown-and-purple tracery of
boughs, and on their right, through the branches, they saw a pale full
moon, throning it in a silver sky. The mild air, the movements of the
birds, the scents from the earth and bushes spoke of spring; and
suddenly Diana perceived the gate leading to the wood where that very
morning the subtle message of the changing year had come upon her,
rending and probing. A longing to tell Marsham all her vague troubles
rose in her, held back by a natural shrinking. But the longing
prevailed, quickened by the loyal sense that she must quickly tell him
all she knew about herself and her history, since there was nobody else
to tell him.

"Oliver!"--she began, hurriedly--"I ought to tell you--I don't think you
know. My name wasn't Mallory to begin with--my father took that name."

Marsham gave a little start.

"Dear--how surprising!--and how interesting! Tell me all you can--from
the year One."

He smiled upon her, with a sparkling look that asked for all her
history. But secretly he had been conscious of a shock. Lately he had
made a few inquiries about the Welsh Mallorys. And the answers had been
agreeable; though the old central stock of the name, to which he
pr