would
have nothing to say to me. Do you remember that evening when you took my
queen? Oh, how unhappy I was that night! And you saw it, and went away.'

'I did not go far,' he returned, taking possession of one hand--the soft
white hand that lay so quietly in his. 'It was the only thing I could do
for you--to keep out of your sight as much as possible. I walked up and
down the road like a sentinel for hours; it did not seem possible to go
home and sleep. I felt as though I never wanted to sleep again. I could
only think of you in your white gown as you sat opposite to me, and how
your hand trembled, and how cold it felt when I said good-night. I
thought it was all your goodness, and because you were sorry for me.
Were you beginning to care for me a little even then, my darling?'

'I do not know,' she answered gently. 'You must not question me too
closely. I hardly understand myself how it has all come about.'

'No,' he returned, looking at her with a sort of worship in his
eyes--the worship with which a good, true woman will sometimes inspire a
man, and which makes their love a higher education; 'it is all a
miracle. I am not worthy of you; but you shall see--you shall see how
dearly I shall prize this precious gift.'

And then for a moment they were both silent.

'You will not now forbid me to speak to your father?' he said presently;
and a shade of anxiety crept into his voice in spite of his intense
happiness.

The thought of that interview somewhat daunted him. It was surely a
daring thing for a junior classical master to tell his chief that he
had won his daughter's affections; it was an ordeal that most men would
have dreaded.

Audrey seemed to read his thoughts.

'I hope I shall never hinder you from doing your duty,' she said
quietly, 'and, of course, you will have to speak to him; but'--looking
at him with one of her radiant smiles--'you will find him quite
prepared.'

'Do you mean that you will speak to him first? Oh no; it is surely my
prerogative to spare you this.'

'But I do not wish to be spared,' she returned happily. 'Cyril, I do not
think you have any idea of what my father is to me, and I to him. Do you
suppose I should sleep until I have told him? There has never been any
secret between us. Even when I was a little child, I would take him all
my broken toys to mend, and if I fell down or cut my finger--and I was
always in mischief--it was always father who must bind it up, and kiss
and c