she knew that I most despised.

"Oh, Marian!" she said. "You crying! Think what you would say to me,
if the places were changed, and if those tears were mine. All your
love and courage and devotion will not alter what must happen, sooner
or later. Let my uncle have his way. Let us have no more troubles and
heart-burnings that any sacrifice of mine can prevent. Say you will
live with me, Marian, when I am married--and say no more."

But I did say more. I forced back the contemptible tears that were no
relief to ME, and that only distressed HER, and reasoned and pleaded as
calmly as I could. It was of no avail. She made me twice repeat the
promise to live with her when she was married, and then suddenly asked
a question which turned my sorrow and my sympathy for her into a new
direction.

"While we were at Polesdean," she said, "you had a letter, Marian----"

Her altered tone--the abrupt manner in which she looked away from me
and hid her face on my shoulder--the hesitation which silenced her
before she had completed her question, all told me, but too plainly, to
whom the half-expressed inquiry pointed.

"I thought, Laura, that you and I were never to refer to him again," I
said gently.

"You had a letter from him?" she persisted.

"Yes," I replied, "if you must know it."

"Do you mean to write to him again?"

I hesitated. I had been afraid to tell her of his absence from
England, or of the manner in which my exertions to serve his new hopes
and projects had connected me with his departure. What answer could I
make? He was gone where no letters could reach him for months, perhaps
for years, to come.

"Suppose I do mean to write to him again," I said at last. "What then,
Laura?"

Her cheek grew burning hot against my neck, and her arms trembled and
tightened round me.

"Don't tell him about THE TWENTY-SECOND," she whispered. "Promise,
Marian--pray promise you will not even mention my name to him when you
write next."

I gave the promise. No words can say how sorrowfully I gave it. She
instantly took her arm from my waist, walked away to the window, and
stood looking out with her back to me. After a moment she spoke once
more, but without turning round, without allowing me to catch the
smallest glimpse of her face.

"Are you going to my uncle's room?" she asked. "Will you say that I
consent to whatever arrangement he may think best? Never mind leaving
me, Marian. I shall be better alone fo