It seems that a certainty, however terrible, hurts less cruelly than
doubt. I suffered most at the dawning of my fears. Now that I know
the worst, I can strain my endurance to the requisite point.
Besides, it cannot last. The more I think of it, the more natural it
seems to me that they should thus forget themselves, for a while;
have I not myself been foolish over both? The fault, too, is mine; I
brought them together; they are not to blame.

Some day I shall laugh at all this; and it is really endurable, even
now. The thing is to brace oneself sufficiently, to the exact point.
It seems to me I keep saying the same thing over and over again; but
it is so necessary to keep it in mind.

_June 25th._--Gabriel is not well. I noticed it a day or two ago.
This afternoon he came to fetch Constance and me for a walk; it had
been so warm that we thought we would walk after tea. And instead of
walking, we stayed in the garden. Mrs. Rayner--thank mercy!--was out
driving with grandmamma and Uncle George.

We stayed in the garden, and idled through the hours; we each had a
book, but I doubt that we read a dozen pages between us. Nor did we
talk much; every now and then we fell to talking, but the pauses had
the best of it.

Gabriel looked very tired; I spread a rug out on the grass, and he
fell asleep with his head on my knees. My pretty Constance said to
me, "You will be tired, you have nothing to lean against," and she
brought her chair up behind me so that I might lean against her. She
is very sweet, my Constance. She put her head down next to mine, and
we spoke in whispers, mostly of him. She has no suspicion that she
loves him more than need be. But it came into my head then, looking
down at Gabriel's pale face, and remembering how he had said he
could not sleep of nights, that perhaps he knows he loves her.

I must watch them more closely. To-morrow I am going to the Cottage.
I fear my visits there a little. Jane is very fond of me; it is
difficult to hide from her that, just at present, I am not so happy
as I was. Gabriel and Constance would, of course, notice it also,
but they are not quite themselves.

_June 27th._--I think I feel as men must who die of thirst adrift in
mid-ocean. There is nothing in creation I could not tell Gabriel and
Constance between them, yet I must now bear the burden of a secret I
can share with neither. Some day, of course, we shall speak of it
and laugh. Perhaps not. My only fear now i