ed. Poor Philip
had no choice but to take leave of me. Papa then went out by the door
that led into his study, and I was left alone.

Can any words say how wretched I felt?

I had hoped so much from that first meeting--and where were my hopes
now? A profane wish that I had never been born was finding its way into
my mind, when the door of the room was opened softly, from the side of
the passage. Maria, dear Maria, the best friend I have, peeped in. She
whispered: "Go into the garden, miss, and you will find somebody there
who is dying to see you. Mind you let him out by the shrubbery gate."
I squeezed her hand; I asked if she had tried the shrubbery gate with a
sweetheart of her own. "Hundreds of times, miss."

Was it wrong for me to go to Philip, in the garden? Oh, there is no end
to objections! Perhaps I did it _because_ it was wrong. Perhaps I had
been kept on my best behavior too long for human endurance.

How sadly disappointed he looked! And how rashly he had placed himself
just where he could be seen from the back windows! I took his arm and
led him to the end of the garden. There we were out of the reach of
inquisitive eyes; and there we sat down together, under the big mulberry
tree.

"Oh, Eunice, your father doesn't like me!"

Those were his first words. In justice to papa (and a little for my
own sake too) I told him he was quite wrong. I said: "Trust my father's
goodness, trust his kindness, as I do."

He made no reply. His silence was sufficiently expressive; he looked at
me fondly.

I may be wrong, but fond looks surely require an acknowledgment of some
kind? Is a young woman guilty of boldness who only follows her impulses?
I slipped my hand into his hand. Philip seemed to like it. We returned
to our conversation.

He began: "Tell me, dear, is Mr. Gracedieu always as serious as he is
to-day?"

"Oh no!"

"When he takes exercise, does he ride? or does he walk?"

"Papa always walks."

"By himself?"

"Sometimes by himself. Sometimes with me. Do you want to meet him when
he goes out?"

"Yes."

"When he is out with me?"

"No. When he is out by himself."

Was it possible to tell me more plainly that I was not wanted? I did my
best to express indignation by snatching my hand away from him. He was
completely taken by surprise.

"Eunice! don't you understand me?"

I was as stupid and as disagreeable as I could possibly be: "No; I
don't!"

"Then let me help you," he said, with a patien