thought you were going to mount guard here all day. Think on all the
sins I shall be committing in your absence."

She has left her hands in his all this time, and is regarding him with
a gay smile, under which she hardly hides a good deal of offended
pride.

"Don't be rash, I pray you," she says, with a gleam of malice.

"The man who said pretty women were at heart the kindest lied," says
Sir Penthony, standing over her, tall, and young, and very nearly
handsome. "You know I am in misery all this time, and that a word from
you would relieve me,--yet you will not speak it."

"Would you"--very gravely--"credit the word of such a sinner as you
would make me out to be?"

"A sinner! Surely I have never called you that."

"You would call me anything when you get into one of those horrid
passions. Come, are you sorry?"

"I am more than sorry. I confess myself a brute if I ever even hinted
at such a word,--which I doubt. The most I feared was your imprudence."

"From all I can gather, that means quite the same thing when said of a
woman."

"Well, _I_ don't mean it as the same. And, to prove my words, if
you will only grant me forgiveness, I will not even mention Tedcastle's
name again."

"But I insist on telling you every word he said to me, and all about
it."

"If you had insisted on that half an hour ago you would have saved
thirty minutes," says Stafford, laughing.

"_Then_ I would not gratify you; _now_--Tedcastle came here, poor
fellow, in a wretched state about Molly Massereene, whose secret he has
at length discovered. About eleven o'clock last night he rushed in here
almost distracted to get her address; so I went to Molly early this
morning, obtained leave to give it,--and a love-letter as well, which
you saw me deliver,--and all his raptures and tender epithets were meant
for her, and not for me. Is it not a humiliating confession? Even when
he kissed my hands it was only in gratitude, and his heart was full of
Molly all the time."

"Then it was not you he was to meet alone?"--eagerly.

"What! Still suspicious? No, sir, it was not your wife he was to meet
'alone,' Now, are you properly abashed? Are you satisfied?"

"I am, and deeply contrite. Yet, Cecil, you must know what it is causes
me such intolerable jealousy, and, knowing, you should pardon. My love
for you only increases day by day. Tell me again I am forgiven."

"Yes, quite forgiven."

"And"--stealing his arm gently round her--"are you