h during the past half-hour. More
than this, she sees, too, the imploring gaze of his dark eyes upturned
to hers.

"Silly boy!" she says, stooping to shake away the daisies with her hand;
but her words have a double meaning. Involuntarily, unseen by all the
others--except Monica--his hand closes upon hers.

"Do not go with him," he says, with deep entreaty.

"I must--now."

"Then let me come too?"

"No." Then she raises herself, and says, gayly, "You shall stay and make
love to Miss Beresford--Monica, I have desired Mr. Ronayne to stay here
and amuse you."

She moves across the lawn with Rossmoyne beside her. Mrs. Herrick and
Mr. Kelly are strolling lazily in another direction. Monica and Ulic are
alone.

"Is there anything I can take you to see?" asks he, gently.

"No, thank you. I am quite happy here."

Then, noticing the extreme sadness on his beautiful face, she says,
slowly, "But you are not, I am afraid."

"I _should_ be, with so fair a companion." He smiles as he says this,
but his smile is without mirth, and she does not return it. Suddenly
leaning forward, she says to him, very tenderly,--

"You love Olga, do you not?"

She never afterwards thinks of this speech without blushing deeply and
wondering why she said it. It was an impulse too strong to be conquered,
and it overpowers her. His face changes, and he colors perceptibly; he
hesitates too, and regards her inquiringly. Something, perhaps, in her
expression reassures him, because presently he says, bravely,--

"Yes, I do. I love her with all my heart and soul; as I never have
loved, as I never shall love again. _This_ thought is my happiness: my
sorrow lies in the fear that she will never love _me_. Forgive my saying
all this to you: she told me to amuse you," with a faint smile, "and I
have woefully neglected her commands."

"You must forgive me," says Monica. "I should not have asked you the
question."

"Do not be sorry for that: it has done me good, I think. I am glad I
have said it _out loud_ to somebody at last. It is odd though,--isn't
it?--I should have made my confession to you, of all people, whom I
never saw until ten minutes ago!"

Then Monica remembers that this is the second young man she has found
herself on friendly terms with since her arrival at Moyne, without the
smallest introduction having been gone through on any side. It all
sounds rather dreamy, and certainly very irregular.

"Ah! there is Madam O'Connor beckoni