or
moonlight, and go over that strange conversation again.

'Let your own heart plead for me,' had been his parting words; and,
indeed, it seemed as though some subtle influence were for ever bringing
his words to her memory. Why had he left her? Could he not have trusted
her to do even this for him? She had loved Cyril, but she had not wished
to marry him; she had wished to marry no man. It was the instinct of her
nature to make others happy, and not to think of herself; and if Michael
had wanted her----But the next moment a sort of despair seized her.

He was not like Cyril. What she had to give would not content him in the
least.

'I must have all your heart or none,' he had said to her; and his eyes
seemed to dominate her as he spoke. 'I should ask more than he did.' And
she had not dared to answer him.

No; she could not deceive him. She knew that no kindness on her part
would ever wear in his eyes the semblance of the love he wanted. What
could she do for him or for herself?

'Can love come by trying?' he had asked; and she could recall vividly
the bitterness of his tone as he said this.

But the speech over which she pondered most, sometimes for an hour
together, was a very different one.

'I shall leave you,' he had told her, and there had been a strange light
in his eyes as he spoke--'I shall leave you to question your own heart.
Let it speak truly. Perhaps--I do not say it will be so, but perhaps you
may find that I am more to you than you think. If that time ever comes,
will you send for me?'

'What did he mean by saying this?' she would ask herself. 'Why did his
look seem to reproach me and pierce me to the heart? How could I know,
unless he told me? It is not my fault that I have been so blind. I
cannot send for him--I cannot! It is too soon, and----'

But Audrey did not finish her sentence. Even under the dark trees the
hot flush was scorching her face.

'Oh, I am so tired of it all!' she would say, springing to her feet with
a sudden, quick impatience.

The old tranquil life--the happy, careless life--was gone for ever.
Cyril--her poor dear Cyril--was in his grave; and now there was this new
lover, with his proud, gentle wooing: not her old Michael who had so
satisfied her, but a new, powerful Michael, who half drew and half
repelled her, and for whom she had no fitting answer.

Audrey was glad when August came and she could find some relief in
change of scene. Dr. Ross had taken a large ro