ht into her face and
noticing for the first time a curious shifty look in her eyes, such as
I had never before noticed in her. She tried to remain calm, but, by
the nervous twitching of her fingers and lower lip, I knew that within
her was concealed a tempest of conflicting emotions.

"To speak quite frankly, Ralph," she said in a calm, serious voice, "I
don't think you are treating her honourably, poor girl. You seem to
have forsaken her altogether, and the neglect has broken her heart."

"No, Mrs. Courtenay; you misunderstand the situation," I protested.
"That I have neglected her slightly I admit; nevertheless the neglect
was not wilful, but owing to my constant occupation in my practice."

"She's desperate. Besides, it's common talk that you've broken off the
engagement."

"Gossip does not affect me; therefore why should she take any heed of
it?"

"Well, she loves you. That you know quite well. You surely could not
have been deceived in those days at Kew, for her devotion to you was
absolute and complete." She was pleading her sister's cause just as
Courtenay had directed her. I felt annoyed that she should thus
endeavour to impose upon me, yet saw the folly of betraying the fact
that I knew her secret. My intention was to wait and watch.

"I called at the Hennikers' a couple of days ago, but Ethelwynn is no
longer there. She's gone into the country, it seems," I remarked.

"Where to?" she asked quickly.

"She's visiting someone near Hereford."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as though a sudden light dawned upon her. "I
know, then. Why, I wonder, did she not tell me. I intended to call on
her this evening, but it is useless. I'm glad to know, for I don't
care much for Mrs. Henniker. She's such a very shallow woman."

"Ethelwynn seems to have wandered about a good deal since the sad
affair at Kew," I observed.

"Yes, and so have I," she responded. "As you are well aware, the blow
was such a terrible one to me that--that somehow I feel I shall never
get over it--never!" I saw tears, genuine tears, welling in her eyes.
If she could betray emotion in that manner she was surely a wonderful
actress.

"Time will efface your sorrow," I said, in a voice meant to be
sympathetic. "In a year or two your grief will not be so poignant, and
the past will gradually fade from your memory. It is always so."

She shook her head mournfully.

"No," she said, "for in addition to my grief there is the mystery of
it all--a mystery