cape.
Her lips trembled. She gave a low cry. "And I have loved Canada so! I
have been so happy here."

"And now I have hurt you?--I have spoilt everything?"

"It is your unhappiness does that--and that you will spoil your life.
Promise me only this one thing--to come to England! Promise me!"

He sat down in a quiet despair that she would urge him so. A long
argument followed between them, and at last she wore him down. She dared
say nothing more of the Commissionership; but he promised her to come to
England some time in the following winter; and with that she had to
be content.

Then she gave him breakfast. During their conversation, which Elizabeth
guided as far as possible to indifferent topics, the name of Mariette
was mentioned. He was still, it seemed, at Vancouver. Elizabeth gave
Anderson a sudden look, and casually, without his noticing, she
possessed herself of the name of Mariette's hotel.

At breakfast also she described, with a smile and sigh, her brother's
first and last attempt to shoot wild goat in the Rockies, an expedition
which had ended in a wetting and a chill--"luckily nothing much; but
poor Philip won't be out of his room to-day."

"I will go and see him," said Anderson, rising.

Elizabeth looked up, her colour fluttering.

"Mr. Anderson, Philip is only a boy, and sometimes a foolish boy--"

"I understand," said Anderson quietly, after a moment. "Philip thinks
his sister has been running risks. Who warned him?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders without replying. He saw a touch of
scorn in her face that was new to him.

"I think I guess," he said. "Why not? It was the natural thing. So Mr.
Delaine is still here?"

"Till to-morrow."

"I am glad. I shall like to assure him that his name was not
mentioned--he was not involved at all!"

Elizabeth's lip curled a little, but she said nothing. During the
preceding forty-eight hours there had been passages between herself and
Delaine that she did not intend Anderson to know anything about. In his
finical repugnance to soiling his hands with matters so distasteful,
Delaine had carried out the embassy which Anderson had perforce
entrusted to him in such a manner as to rouse in Elizabeth a maximum of
pride on her own account, and of indignation on Anderson's. She was not
even sorry for him any more; being, of course, therein a little unjust
to him, as was natural to a high-spirited and warm-hearted woman.

Anderson, meanwhile, went off to kn