cent, no doubt, but it is also not a little
uncomfortable, at times, for other people.--However that trifle of
criticism is, after all, beside the mark. Now that the whirlwind has
ceased, Miss St. Quentin, may the still, small voice of my own affairs
presume to make itself----"

But there he stopped abruptly.

"My dear friend," he asked in quick anxiety, "what is the matter?
Pardon me, but what on earth has happened to you?"

For Honoria leaned both elbows on the low, carved pillar terminating
the masonry of the parapet. She covered her face with her hands. And,
incontestably, she shuddered queerly from head to foot.

"Wait half a second," she said, in a stifled voice. "It's nothing--I'm
all right."

Slowly she raised herself, and took a long breath. Then she turned to
her faithful lover, showing him a brave, if somewhat drawn and tired
countenance.

"Ludovic," she said gently, "don't, don't please let us talk any more
about all that. And don't, I entreat you, wait any longer. If there was
any uncertainty, if there was a doubt in the back of my mind, it's
gone. Forgive me--this must sound brutal--but there is no more doubt. I
can't marry you. I am sorry, horribly sorry--for you have been as
charming to me as a man could be--but I shall never be able to marry
you."

Mr. Quayle's expression retained its sweetness, even its effect of
amusement, though his lips quivered, and his eyelids were a little red.

"I do not come up to the requirements of the grand passion?" he said.
"Alas! poor me----"

"No, no, it isn't that," Honoria protested.

"Ah, then,"--he paused, with an air of extraordinary
intelligence--"Perhaps some one else does?"

"Yes," she said simply, "I don't like it, but it's there, and so I've
got to go through with it--some one else does."

"In that case it is indeed hopeless! I give it up," he cried.

He moved aside and stood gazing at the rising trout in the golden-brown
water. Then he raised his head sharply, as in obedience to a thought
suddenly occurring to him, and gazed at Brockhurst House. The
brightness of the western sky found reflection in its many windows. A
noble cheerfulness seemed to pervade it, as it crowned the hillside,
amid its gardens and far-ranging woods.

"By all that's"--Mr. Quayle began. But he repressed the exclamation,
and his expression was wholly friendly as he returned to Miss St.
Quentin.

"Good-bye," he said.--"I am glad, honestly glad, you have found the
gran