told at once. Aunt Hannah said "Oh, my
grief and conscience!" three times, and made matters scarcely better by
adding apologetically: "Oh, of course it's all right, it's all right,
only--" She did not finish her sentence, and William, who had told her
the news, did not know whether he would have been more or less pleased
if she had finished it.

Cyril received the information moodily, and lapsed at once into a fit
of abstraction from which he roused himself hardly enough to offer
perfunctory congratulations and best wishes.

Billy was a little puzzled at Cyril's behavior. She had been sure for
some time that Cyril had ceased to care specially for her, even if
he ever did fancy that he loved her. She had hoped to keep him for
a friend, but of late she had been forced to question even his
friendliness. He had, in fact, gone back almost to his old reserve and
taciturn aloofness.

From the West, in response to William's news of the engagement, came a
cordially pleased note in Kate's scrawling handwriting. Kate, indeed,
seemed to be the only member of the family who was genuinely delighted
with the coming marriage. As to Bertram--Bertram appeared to have aged
years in a single night, so drawn and white was his face the morning
after William had told him his plans.

William had dreaded most of all to tell Bertram. He was very sure that
Bertram himself cared for Billy; and it was doubly hard because in
William's own mind was a strong conviction that the younger man was
decidedly the one for her. Realizing, however, that Bertram must be
told, William chose a time for the telling when Bertram was smoking in
his den in the twilight, with his face half hidden from sight.

Bertram said little--very little, that night; but in the morning he went
straight to Billy.

Billy was shocked. She had never seen the smiling, self-reliant,
debonair Bertram like this.

"Billy, is this true?" he demanded. The dull misery in his voice told
Billy that he knew the answer before he asked the question.

"Yes, yes; but, Bertram, please--please don't take it like this!" she
implored.

"How would you have me take it?"

"Why, just--just sensibly. You know I told you that--that the other
never could be--never."

"I know YOU said so; but I--believed otherwise."

"But I told you--I did not love you--that way."

Bertram winced. He rose to his feet abruptly.

"I know you did, Billy. I'm a fool, of course, to think that I could
ever--change