rd term commenced. The boys had returned to school, so that they
all acceded to Lady De Vayne's earnest request that they would come.

It was astonishing how rapidly the young viscount recovered when once
Violet had come to Other Hall. Her presence seemed to fill him with
fresh life, and he soon began to get down-stairs, and even to venture on
a short walk in the park. His constitution had suffered a serious and
permanent injury, but he was pronounced convalescent before the Homes
finished their visit.

The last evening before their departure, he was seated with Violet on a
rustic seat on the terrace, looking at the sun as it set behind the
distant elms of the park, and at the deer as they grazed in lovely
groups on the rich undulating slopes that swept down from the slight
eminence on which his house was built. He felt that the time had come
to speak his love.

"Violet," he said, as he looked earnestly at her, and took her hand,
"you have, doubtless, seen that I love you. Can you ever return my
love? I am ready to live and die for you, and to give you my whole
affection." His voice was still low and weak through illness, and he
could hardly speak the sentences which were to win for him a decision of
his fate.

Violet was taken by surprise; she had known Lord De Vayne so long and so
intimately, and their stations were so different, that the thought of
his loving her had never entered her head. She regarded him familiarly
as her brother's friend.

"Dear De Vayne," she said, "I shall always love you as a friend, as a
brother. But did you not know that I have been for some months
engaged?"

"Engaged?" he said, turning very pale.

"I am betrothed," she answered, "to Edward Kennedy. Nay, Arthur, dear
Arthur," she continued, as he nearly fainted at her feet, "you must not
suffer this disappointment to overcome you. Love me still as a sister;
regard me as though I were married already, and let us enjoy a happy
friendship for many years."

He was too weak to bear up, too weak to talk; only the tears coursed
each other fast down his cheeks as he murmured, "Oh, forgive me, forgive
me, Violet."

"Forgive you," she said kindly; "nay, you honour me too much. Marry one
of your own high rank, and not the orphan of a poor clergyman. I am
sure you will not yield to this sorrow, and suffer it to make you ill.
Bear up, Arthur, for your mother's sake--for _my_ sake; and let us be as
if these words had never passed