day!"

John moved a little restlessly in his chair.

"Let's drop it, Stephen," he begged. "We both know the facts. She is
going to marry him, and that's the end of it. Fill your glass up again.
Here's mine untouched. I'll drink your toast with you, if you'll leave
out the little girl who was kind to me. I'll give it to you
myself--confusion to all women!"

"Confusion to--" Stephen began. "What on earth is that?"

They both heard it at the same time--the faint beating of a motor-engine
in the distance. John set down his glass. There was a strange look in
his eyes.

"There are more cars passing along the road now than in the old days,"
he muttered; "but that's a queer sound. It reminds one--good Heavens,
how it reminds one!"

There was a look of agony in his face for a moment. Then once more he
raised his glass to his lips.

"It's passed out of hearing," Stephen said. "It's some one on the way to
the castle, maybe."

Still their glasses remained suspended in mid air. The little garden
gate had opened and closed with a click; there were footsteps upon the
flinty walk.

"It's some one coming here!" John cried hoarsely. "Why can't they keep
away? It's two years ago this week since I brought her up the drive and
you met us at the front door. Two years ago, Stephen! Who can it be?"

They heard the front door open, they heard Jenning's voice raised in
unusual and indignant protest. Then their own door was suddenly flung
wide, and a miracle happened. John's glass slipped from his fingers, and
the wine streamed out across the carpet. He shrank back, gripping the
tablecloth. Stephen turned his head, and sat as if turned to stone.

"John!"

She was coming toward him exactly as he had dreamed of her so many
times, her hands outstretched, her lips quivering, with that sweet look
in her face which had dwelt there once for a few days--just a few days
of her life.

"John," she faltered, "it isn't the car this time--it is I who have
broken down! I cannot go on. I have no pride left. I have come to you.
Will you help me?"

He found himself upon his feet. Stephen, too, had risen. She stood
between the two men, and glanced from one to the other. Then she looked
more closely into John's face, peering forward with a little start of
pain, and her eyes were filled with tears.

"John," she cried, "forgive me! You were so cruel that morning, and you
seemed to understand so little. Don't you really understand, even now?
Have y