omance.

"Oh, John," said Lady Mary, "tell me what to do? No, no; don't tell
me--or I shall do it--and I mustn't."

"My darling," he said, "I only tell you to wait." He rallied himself
to speak cheerfully, and to bring the life and colour back to her sad,
white face.

"Just at this moment I quite realize I should be a disturbing element,
and I am going to get myself out of the way as quickly as politeness
permits. And you are to devote yourself to Peter, and not to be torn
with self-reproach. If we act sensibly, and don't precipitate matters,
nobody need have a grievance, and Peter and I will be the best of
friends in the future, I hope. There is little use in having grown-up
wits if we snatch our happiness at the expense of other people's
feelings, as young folk so often do."

The twinkle in his bright eyes, and the kindly humour of his smile,
restored her shaken self-confidence.

"Oh, John, no one else could ever understand--as you understand. If
only Peter--"

"Peter is a boy," said John, "dreaming as a boy dreams, resolving as
a boy resolves; and his dreams and his resolutions are as light as
thistledown: the first breath of a new fancy, or a fresh interest,
will blow them away. I put my faith in the future, in the near future.
Time works wonders."

He stooped and kissed her hands, one after the other, with a
possessive tenderness that told her better than words, that he had not
resigned his claims.

"Now I'll go and offer my congratulations to the hero of the day,"
said John. "I must not put off any longer; and it is quite settled
that our secret is to remain our secret--for the present."

Then he stepped out on to the terrace, and Lady Mary looked after him
with a little sigh and smile.

She lifted a hand-mirror from the silver table that stood at her
elbow, and shook her head over it.

"It's all very well for him, and it's all very well for Peter," she
said; "but Time--Time is _my_ worst enemy."

CHAPTER XIII

Sarah Hewel ran into the drawing-room before Lady Mary found courage
to put her newly gained composure to the test, by joining the crowd on
the terrace.

"Oh, Lady Mary, are you there?" she cried, pausing in her eager
passage to the window. "I thought you would be out-of-doors with the
others!"

"Sarah, my dear!" said Lady Mary, kissing her.

"I--I saw all the people," said Sarah, in a breathless, agitated
way, "I heard the news, and I wasn't sure whether I ought to come to
l