, though one doesn't tell them to one's sisters
and cousins and aunts. And sometimes'--she turned her chin round on her
hand and looked at him with a delicious, shy impulsiveness--'sometimes a
stranger sees clearer. Do _you_ think me a monster, as Catherine does?'

Even as she spoke her own words startled her--the confidence, the
abandonment of them. But she held to them bravely; only her eyelids
quivered. She had absurdly misjudged this man, and there was a warm
penitence in her heart. How kind he had been, how sympathetic!

He rose with her last words, and stood leaning against the mantelpiece,
looking down upon her gravely, with the air, as it seemed to her, of
her friend, her confessor. Her white childish brow, the little curls of
bright hair upon her temples, her parted lips, the pretty folds of the
muslin dress the little foot on the fender--every detail of the picture
impressed itself once for all. Langham will carry it with him to his
grave.

'Tell me,' she said again, smiling divinely, as though to encourage
him--'tell me quite frankly, down to the bottom, what you think?'

The harsh noise of an opening door in the distance, and a gust of wind
sweeping through the house--voices and steps approaching. Rose
sprang up, and for the first time during all the latter part of their
conversation felt a sharp sense of embarrassment.

'How early you are, Robert!' she exclaimed, as the study door opened
and Robert's wind-blown head and tall form wrapped in an Inverness cape
appeared on the threshold. 'Is Catherine tired?'

'Rather,' said Robert, the slightest gleam of surprise betraying itself
on his face. 'She has gone to bed, and told me to ask you to come and
say good-night to her.'

'You got my message about not coming from old Martha?' asked Rose. 'I
met her on the common.'

'Yes, she gave it us at the church door.' He went out again into the
passage to hang up his greatcoat. She followed, longing to tell him that
it was pure accident that took her to the study, but she could not
find words in which to do it, and could only say good-night a little
abruptly.

'How tempting, that fire looks!' said Robert, re-entering the study.
'Were you very cold, Langham, before you lit it?

'Very,' said Langham smiling, his arm behind his head, his eyes fixed on
the blaze; 'but I have been delightfully warm and happy since.'

CHAPTER XIV.

Catherine stopped beside the drawing-room window with a start, caught by
som