."

"Don't joke about it," she said as they rose together and stood for a
moment at the window looking down into the flowering gardens.

"Is it not a jolly scene?" she added--"the fountain against the green,
and the flowers and the sunshine everywhere, and all those light summer
gowns outdoors in January, and--" She checked herself and laid her hand
on his arm; "Garry, do you see that girl in the wheel-chair!--the one
just turning into the gardens!"

He had already seen her. Suddenly his heart stood still in dread of what
his aunt was about to say. He knew already somehow that she was going to
say it, yet when she spoke the tiny shock came just the same.

"That," said his aunt, "is Shiela Cardross. Is she not too lovely for
words?"

"Yes," he said, "she is very beautiful."

For a while they stood together there at the window, then he said
good-bye in a rather subdued manner which made his aunt laugh that
jolly, clear laugh which never appealed to him in vain.

"You're not mortally stricken already at your first view of her, are
you?" she asked.

"Not mortally," he said.

"Then fall a victim and recover quickly. And _don't_ let me sit here too
long without seeing you; will you?"

She went to the door with him, one arm linked in his, brown eyes bright
with her pride and confidence in him--in this tall, wholesome,
clean-built boy, already on the verge of distinction in his rather
unusual profession. And she saw in him all the strength and engaging
good looks of his dead father, and all the clear and lovable sincerity
of his mother--her only sister--now also dead.

"You _will_ come to see me sometimes--won't you, Garry?" she repeated
wistfully.

"Of course I will. Give my love to Virginia and my amused regards to the
faithful three."

And so they parted, he to saunter down into the cool gardens on his way
to call on Mr. Cardross; she to pace the floor, excited by his arrival,
her heart beating with happiness, pride, solicitude for the young fellow
who was like brother and son to her--this handsome, affectionate,
generous boy who had steadily from the very first declined to accept one
penny of her comfortable little fortune lest she be deprived of the
least luxury or convenience, and who had doggedly educated and prepared
himself, and contrived to live within the scanty means he had inherited.

And now at last the boy saw success ahead, and Miss Palliser was happy,
dreaming brilliant dreams for him, conjuri