hungry, so we brought it to
you. But," eyeing him with disfavor, and as one might who feels herself
considerably _done_, "you are evidently not. You are looking just the
same as ever, and not a bit _pinched_ or _drawn_, as people are when
they are found starved in garrets."

"Yes, I was afraid you would get nothing to eat," says Monica, timidly.
There is in her lovely eyes a certain wistfulness suggestive of the
idea that she hopes her cake has not been made in vain.

Mr. Desmond, seeing it, grasps the situation.

"I _am_ hungry," he says; and I hope, and think, the gentle lie will be
forgiven him. "We have had nothing in the house all day but bread, and
that is not appetizing."

"_There!_" says Monica, turning to Kit with sparkling eyes, "I _told_
you he wouldn't like bread."

"But," goes on Desmond, with a view to making her future happier,
"to-morrow all will be right again. We know of a few faithful people who
will smuggle us in all we may require. So do not be unhappy about me
again. Sweetheart, what a terrible weight you have been carrying!"

"It _is_ a fine one, isn't it?" says Kit. "But give it to me now,
Monica," taking the cake from her, "while you talk to Brian: when you
are ready to come home, I can give it to him."

So saying, this inestimable child withdraws herself and Monica's
offering to a safe distance, and pretends for the remainder of the
interview an absorbing interest in some wild flowers growing near.

"I have only a moment to stay," says Monica, nervously. "I shall be
missed; and now I have _seen_ you safe and unhurt," with a very sweet
smile, "I shall be able to sleep. But all day long I have been haunted
by timid thoughts," she sighs.

"I doubt it was a sorry day for you, that first one when we met," says
Desmond, remorsefully. "I have brought you only trouble. By and by you
will regret you ever knew me."

"Do not say that. I have no regrets,--none! Even if--if--we cannot be--"
reddening vividly, "more to each other than we are now, I can still be
happy in the thought that you love me and are near me, and that I can
sometimes, in spite of _every one_--" with a recklessness that sits very
funnily upon her--"see you."

"But we shall be more to each other, Monica," says the young man,
earnestly. "We shall be all in all to each other. No human being has the
right to separate two hearts for the sake of a mere whim."

"There are so many things. But now, indeed, I must go. Good-night."