es the approach of enemies.

Mrs. Dashwood and Lady Dashwood had gone upstairs, and, to her
astonishment, when she prepared to follow them, Lady Dashwood had
quietly made her wait behind for the Warden!

The command, for it seemed almost like a command, came with startling
abruptness. So Lady Dashwood knew all about it! She must have talked it
over with the Warden, and now she was arranging it as if the Warden
couldn't act without her! But the annoyance that Gwen felt at this proof
of Lady Dashwood's power was swallowed up in the sense of a great
victory, the prize was won! She was going to be really engaged at last!
All the waiting and the bother was over!

She was ready for him, at least as ready as she could be. She was glad
she had got on her white frock; on the whole, she preferred it to the
others. Even Louise, who never said anything nice, said that it suited
her.

When would he come? And when he did come, what would he do, what would
he say?

Would he come in quietly and slowly as he had done last night, looking,
oh, so strong, so capable of driving ghosts away, fears away? She would
never be afraid of anything in his presence, except perhaps of himself!
Here he was!

He came in, shut the door behind him, and advanced towards her. She
couldn't help watching him.

"You're quite alone," he said, and he came and stood by the hearth under
the portrait and leaned his hand on the mantelshelf.

"Yes," said Gwen, blushing violently. "Lady Dashwood and Mrs. Dashwood
have gone. Lady Dashwood said I was to stay up!"

"Thank you," said the Warden.

Gwen looked up at him wistfully.

"You wrote me a letter," he began, "and from it I gather that you have
been thinking over what I said the other evening."

"Yes," said Gwen; "I've been so--bothered. Oh, that's the wrong word--I
mean----"

"You have thought it over quietly and seriously?" said the Warden.

Gwen's eyes flickered. "Yes," she said; and then, as he seemed to expect
her to say more, she added:

"I don't know whether you meant----" and here she stopped dead.

"Between us there must be absolute sincerity," he said.

Gwen felt a qualm. Did absolute sincerity mean that she would have to
tell about the--the umbrella that she was going to get?

"Yes," she said, "I like sincerity; it's right, isn't it?"

He made no answer. She looked again at him wistfully.

"Suppose you tell me," he said gently, "what you yourself think of your
mother's letter in w