disastrous
flood that had drowned the English girl years before.

Hope loved to hear that soft chuckling between the reeds. It made her
think of an English springtime. The joy of spring was in her veins. She
turned her face to the sunshine with a smile of purest happiness. Only
two months more to the zenith of her happiness!

There came the sound of a step on the veranda--a stumbling, uncertain
step. She turned swiftly in her chair, and sprang up. Ronnie had
returned to prepare for the race, and she had not heard him. She had not
seen him before that day, and she felt a momentary compunction as she
moved to greet him. And then--her heart stood still.

He was standing a few paces away, supporting himself against a pillar of
the veranda. His eyes were fixed and heavy, like the eyes of a man
walking in his sleep. He stared at her dully, as if he were looking at a
complete stranger.

Hope stopped short, gazing at him in speechless consternation.

After several moments he spoke thickly, scarcely intelligibly.

"I can't race to-day," he said. "Not well enough. Hyde must find a
substitute."

He could hardly articulate the last word, but Hope caught his meaning.
The whole miserable tragedy was written up before her in plain,
unmistakable characters.

But almost as quickly as she perceived it came the thought that no one
else must know. Something must be done, even though it was at the
eleventh hour.

Her first instinct was to send for Baring, but she thrust it from her.
No! She must find another way. There must be a way out if she were only
quick enough to see it--some way by which she could cover up his
disgrace so that none should know of it. There was a way--surely there
was a way! Ronnie's dull stare became intolerable. She went to him,
bravely, steadfastly.

"Go and lie down!" she said. "I will see about it for you."

Something in her own words sent a sudden flash through her brain. She
caught her breath, and her face turned very white. But her steadfastness
did not forsake her. She took Ronnie by the arm and guided him to his
room.

IX

THE RACE

"Such a pity. Hope can't come!"

Mrs. Latimer addressed Baring, who had just approached her across the
racecourse. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the scene was very
gay.

Baring, who had drawn near with a certain eagerness, seemed to stiffen
at her words.

"Can't come!" he echoed. "Why not?"

Mrs. Latimer handed him a note.

"She sent thi