der you never fell in love with Anna yourself. I am sure if I
were you I should prefer her to me. She knows something and I do not,
but I am going to study. There are piles of books in the library at
Prospect Hill, and you shall see what a famous student I will become.
If I get puzzled, will you help me?"

"Yes, willingly," Arthur replied, wishing that she would go before
she indulged in any more speculations as to why he did not love Anna
Ruthven.

But Lucy was not done yet, and Arthur felt as if the earth were giving
way beneath his feet when, as he lifted her into the saddle and took
her hand at parting, she said, "Now, remember, I am not going to be
jealous of that other love. There is only one person who could make me
so, and that is Anna Ruthven; but I know it was not she, for that
night we all came from Mrs. Hobbs' and she went with me up-stairs, I
asked her honestly if you had ever offered yourself to her, and she
told me you had not. I think you showed a lack of taste, but I am glad
it was not Anna."

Lucy was far down the road ere Arthur recovered from the shock her
last words had given him. What did it mean, and why had Anna said he
never proposed? Was there some mistake, and he the victim of it? There
was a blinding mist before the young man's eyes as he returned to his
study, and went over again, with all the incidents of Anna's refusal,
even to the reading of the letter which he already knew by heart.
Then, as the thought came over him that possibly Mrs. Meredith played
him false in some way, he groaned aloud, and the great sweat drops
fell upon the table where he leaned his head. But this could not be,
he reasoned. Lucy was mistaken. She had not heard aright. Somebody,
surely, was mistaken, or he had committed a fatal error.

"But I must abide by it," he said, lifting up his pallid face. "God
forbid the wrong I have done in asking Lucy to be my wife when my
heart belonged to Anna. God help me to forget the one and love the
other as I ought. She is a lovely little girl, trusting me so wholly
that I can make her happy, and I will; but Anna! oh, Anna!"

It was a despairing cry, such as a newly-engaged man should never have
sent after another than his affianced bride. Arthur thought so, too,
fighting back his first love with an iron will, and, after that first
hour of anguish, burying it so far from sight that he went that night
to Captain Humphreys and told of his engagement; then called upon his
bride