no reply, but only blushed the more; at last she
looked up a little.

"You have made me very happy, Philip." That was all she said.

"I am very glad, dear, that you can find anything in me to like; but
if you do care for me, and think me worth waiting for, I am going to
ask something of your affection: I am going to ask you to trust me as
well as to love me. I do not, for reasons that I will not enter into,
but which I beg you to believe are perfectly straightforward, wish
anything to be said of our engagement at present, not even to your
friend Hilda. Do you trust me sufficiently to agree to that?"

"Philip, I trust you as much as I love you, and for years I have loved
you with all my heart. And now, dear, please go; I want to think."

In the hall a servant gave him a note; it was from Hilda, and ran
thus--

"I have changed my mind. I will meet you in the summer-house this
evening. I have something to say to you."

Philip whistled as he read it.

"Devilish awkward," he thought to himself; "if I am going to marry
Maria, she must leave this. But I cannot bear to part with her. I love
her! I love her!"

CHAPTER VI

It was some time before Philip could make up his mind whether or no he
would attend his tryst with Hilda. In the first place, he felt that it
was an unsafe proceeding generally, inasmuch as moonlight meetings
with so lovely a person might, should they come to the knowledge of
Miss Lee, be open to misconstruction; and particularly because, should
she show the least tenderness towards him, he knew in his heart that
he could not trust himself, however much he might be engaged in
another direction. At twenty-one the affections cannot be outraged
with impunity, but have an awkward way of asserting themselves, ties
of honour notwithstanding.

But as a rule, when in our hearts we wish to do anything, that thing
must be bad indeed if we cannot find a satisfactory excuse for doing
it; and so it was with Philip. Now, thought he to himself, would be
his opportunity to inform Hilda of his relations with Maria Lee, and
to put an end to his flirtation with her; for, ostensibly at any rate,
it was nothing more than a very serious flirtation--that is to say,
though there had been words of love, and even on her part a passionate
avowal of affection, wrung in an unguarded moment from the depths of
her proud heart, there had been no formal engagement. It was a thing
that must be done