well there was
something--something! which she would have given her life not to
recollect; which she knew in another moment would flash completely upon
her as she tried not to remember it. And then suddenly her working mind
caught another string which was not that; which was a relief to that for
the moment. Brown!--who was it that had talked of Brown?--and the books
that were destroyed--and the----and the----day that Phil Compton arrived
at Windyhill?

Elinor rose up from her seat with a gasp. She put her arm round the
rough stem of the fir-tree to support herself, but it shook with her
though there was no wind, only the softest of morning airs. She saw
before her a scene very different from this--the flowery garden at the
cottage with the copse and the sandy road beyond, and the man whom Phil
had expected, whom he had been so anxious to see--and his fingers
catching hers, keeping her by him, and the questions to which she had
replied. Twenty years! What a long time it is! time enough for a boy to
grow into almost a man who had not been born or thought of--and yet what
a moment, what a nothing! Her mind flashed from that scene in the garden
to the little hall in the cottage, the maid stooping down fastening the
bolt of the door, the calendar hanging on the wall with the big 6
showing so visible, so obtrusive, forcing itself as it were on the
notice of all. "Only ten days, Nell!" And the maid's glance upwards of
shy sympathy, and the blank of Mrs. Dennistoun's face, and his look. Oh,
that look of his! which was true and yet so false; which meant so much
besides, and yet surely, surely meant love too!

The young fir-tree creaked and swayed in Elinor's grip. She unloosed it
as if the slim thing had cried under the pressure, and sat down again.
She had nothing to grasp at, nothing. Oh, her life had not been without
support! Her mother--how extraordinary had been her good fortune to have
her mother to fall back upon when she was shipwrecked in her life--to
have a home, a shelter, a perpetual protector and champion, who, whether
she approved or disapproved, would forsake her never. And then the boy,
God bless him! who might quiver like the little fir if she flung herself
upon him, but who, she knew, would stand as true. Oh, God forbid, God
forbid that he should ever know! Oh, God help her, God help her! how was
she to keep it from his knowledge? Elinor flung herself down upon the
mossy knoll in her despair as this came pour