really too childish. One would think it was to
be an eternal separation."

"It is evident you will not miss me much," said poor Bluebell, wounded,
and thankful she had not committed herself further.

"I should if Bertie were not here," answered Cecil, with heartless
intention. "But I really think this is the best time for you to be away,
for I am out so much with him, I see nothing of you. When he is gone,
Bluebell, and you have returned, we must begin to sing and read together,
as we used to do." This agreeable speech effectually quenched all
revelations on Bluebell's side, who, hurt and offended, took up a candle
and retired to her inner apartment.

"They are all alike," she thought; "and Bertie understood the matter
better than I did. Now, I suppose, they will try and prevent me ever
seeing him again. Girls in novels think it necessary to give up their
lovers if the family disapprove; the book always gets very dull then; but
Bertie has never yet given me the chance to act the high-minded heroine."
And then she fell to wondering why he had not said something really
definite, he seemed near it so often. And yet he was his own master; no
stern father loomed in the background--_that_ Bluebell would have
considered a possible obstacle,--for had she not seen such malign
influence destroy more than one promising love affair among her
companions. Of course there was no solution to such an inscrutable
mystery, though Bluebell tossed awake half the night in the effort to
find one.

Next morning they all met at breakfast as usual. No allusion was made to
her approaching departure. Afterwards, she attended to Freddy's nominal
lessons, packed her slender wardrobe, and then remained in her own room,
for the first time unwilling to go downstairs without an invitation. And
yet she grudged every hour that passed and brought the separation nearer.
She heard Bertie whistling about the house, so she would most likely see
him before starting--probably only at luncheon, though, which was the
children's dinner. A minute before the bell rang Bluebell descended, and
came full on Du Meresq in an angle of the staircase. She stopped
involuntarily. He was beside her with a smothered exclamation of
endearment, and an eager hand seeking hers. Had she dreamt it? The face
was impassive, the hand dropped, and a careless voice was saying,--

"Are you really going home this afternoon, Miss Leigh?"

At the same instant she observed Cecil's upturn