ently, "for there is no acting
in this world which would deceive me."

"You do not doubt that I should make you a good husband?"

"I believe you would," she answered, "but I dare not try it."

"And this is the woman," he murmured, sadly, "who calls me stubborn."

Tea was brought in. Afterwards they walked in the gardens together.
The band was playing, and they were surrounded on all sides by
acquaintances. A great personage stopped and talked to them for a
while. Lady Caroom admitted the news of Sybil's engagement. After that
every one stopped to express pleasure. It was not until the young
people appeared themselves, and at once monopolized all attention, that
Arranmore was able to draw his companion away into comparative solitude.

"Do you by any chance correspond with Brooks?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

"No!" she answered. "I was thinking of that. I should like him to know
from one of us. Can't you write him, Arranmore?"

"I could," he answered, "but it would perhaps come better from you.
Have you ever had any conversation with him about Sybil?"

"Once," she answered, "yes!

"Then you can write--it will be better for you to write. I should like
to ask you a question if I may."

"Yes."

"Have you any idea whether the news will be in any way a blow to him?"

"I think perhaps it may," she admitted.

Arranmore was silent. She watched him half eagerly, hoping for some
look, some expression of sympathy. She was disappointed. His face did
not relax. It seemed almost to grow harder.

"He has only himself to blame," he said, slowly. "But for this
ridiculous masquerading his chance was as good as Atherstone's.
Quixoticism such as his is an expensive luxury."

She shivered a little.

"That sounds hard-hearted," she said. "He is doing what he thinks
right."

Then Lord Arranmore told her what he had told Brooks himself.

"My son is quite a model young man," he said, "but he is a prig. He
thinks too much about what is right and wrong, about what is due to
himself, and he values his own judgment too highly. However, I have no
right to complain, for it is he who suffers, not I. May I dine at your
table to-night? I came over alone."

"Certainly."

They were interrupted a few minutes later by Sybil and Atherstone, and a
small host of their friends. But in consequence of Lord Arranmore's
visit to Homburg, Brooks a few days later received two letters. The
first was from Lord Arranmore.

"RITTER's HO