was about, and I would much rather do neither as yet."

"That is very strange. I dislike concealment of all kinds, especially
from you, who so soon will be my wife. It is inconceivable to me why you
should need or desire any. I thought your life was a fair open book,
every line of which I might read if I desired."

Beatrice looked at him in amazement.

"So you may. Do you suppose, if I had any secret from you that I feared
you should know, I could have a moment's peace in your society, or look
at you for an instant as I do now? I give you my word of honor that
there was nothing either in the note that concerns you, or that you
would wish me to tell you. In a few days you shall know all that was in
it, but I ask you as a kindness not to press me now. Surely you do not
think me such a child but that you can trust me in so small a trifle. If
you say I am not worthy of your confidence, you imply that I am not
worthy of your love. You spoke nobly to your sister just now, Ernest; do
not act less nobly to me."

He could not but admire her as she looked at him, with her fearless,
unshadowed regard, her head thrown a little back, and her attitude
half-commanding, half-entreating. He smiled in spite of himself.

"You are a wayward, spoiled child, Beatrice. You must have your own
way?"

She gave a little stamp of her foot. She hated being called a spoiled
child, specially by him, and in a serious moment.

"If I have my own way, have I your full confidence too?"

"Yes; but, my dear Beatrice, the only way to gain confidence is never to
excite suspicion." And Lady Clive's thorn rankled a ravir; for even as
he pressed his goodnight kisses on her lips, he thought, restlessly,
"Shall we make each other happy?--am I too grave for her?--and is she
too wilful for me? I want rest, not contention."

The night after that there was a bal-masque at the Redoute. I was just
coming out of my room as Beatrice came down the corridor; She had her
mask in her hand, her dress was something white starred with gold, and
round her hair she had a little band of pearls of Earlscourt's gift. I
never saw her look better, specially when her cheeks flushed and her
eyes brightened as Earlscourt opened his door next mine, and met her. He
did not see me, the corridor was empty, and he bent down to her with
fond words and caresses.

"Do I look well?" she said, with child-like delight.

"I am so glad, Ernest, I want to do you honor."

In that mood he