ut I like this calm little corner. I have come often to it
lately."

Miss Kavanagh lets her eyes wander to the stream down below. To this
little spot of all places! Her favorite nook! Had he hoped to meet her
there? Oh, no; impossible! And besides she had given it up for a long,
long time until this evening. It seems weeks to her now since last she
was here.

"You will find Barbara at home," says she gently.

"I don't suppose it is of very much consequence," says he, alluding to
the message. He is looking at her, though her averted face leaves him
little to study.

"You are cold," says he abruptly.

"Am I?" turning to him with a little smile. "I don't feel cold. I feel
dull, perhaps, but nothing else."

And in truth if she had used the word "unhappy" instead of "dull" she
would have been nearer the mark. The coming of Dysart thus suddenly into
the midst of her mournful reverie has but served to accentuate the
reality of it. A terrible sense of loneliness is oppressing her. All
things have their place in this world, yet where is hers? Of what
account is she to anyone? Barbara loves, her; yes, but not so well as
Freddy and the children! Oh, to be first with someone!

"I find no spring, while spring is well-nigh blown;
I find no nest, while nests are in the grove;
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone--
My heart that breaketh for a little love."

Christina Rosetti's mournful words seem to suit her. Involuntarily she
lifts her heavy eyes, tired of the day's weeping, and looks at Dysart.

"You have been crying," says he abruptly.

CHAPTER LII.

"My love has sworn with sealing kiss
With me to live--to die;
I have at last my nameless bliss--
As I love, loved am I."

There is a pause: it threatens to be an everlasting one, as Miss
Kavanagh plainly doesn't know what to say. He can see this; what he
cannot see is that she is afraid of her own voice. Those troublesome
tears that all day have been so close to her seem closer than ever now.

"Beauclerk came down to see you to-day," says he presently. This remark
is so unexpected that it steadies her.

"Yes," she says, calmly enough, but without raising the tell-tale eyes.

"You expected him?"

"No." Monosyllables alone seem possible to her. So great is her fear
that she will give way and finally disgrace herself, that she forgets to
resent the magisterial tone be has adopted.

"He asked you to marry him,