herself. And then, had not Audrey once found her crying in her room, and
for a long time she had refused to be comforted? Audrey had been much
alarmed, for she thought something must be wrong at Woodcote; but it was
only that Percival had a headache and seemed so dull without her. 'He
says he really cannot bear the place without me, that he thinks he must
go to Edith--and, and, I want to go home dreadfully,' finished Geraldine
tearfully; 'I don't think engaged people ought to leave each other, and
I know Percival thinks so too.'

Audrey remembered this little episode when during the Christmas holidays
Cyril was obliged to go up to town for ten days. She missed him
excessively, and wrote him charming little letters every day; but,
nevertheless, the time did not hang heavily on her hands. But she was
glad when the day of his return arrived, and she went down to the Gray
Cottage to welcome him. Mrs. Blake had suggested it as a little
surprise, and Audrey had agreed at once. Cyril's delight at seeing her
almost deprived him of good manners. He knew his _fiancee_ objected to
any sort of demonstration before people; and he only just remembered
this in time, as Audrey drew back with a heightened colour.

But he made up for it afterwards when Mrs. Blake left them alone, and
Audrey was almost overwhelmed by his vehement expressions of joy at
finding himself with her again.

'It has been the longest ten days I have ever spent in my life,' he
observed; 'I was horribly bored, and as homesick as possible. I am
afraid Norton found me very poor company. If it had not been for your
letters, I could not have borne it. You shall never send me away again,
dearest.'

'But that is nonsense,' she returned, in her sensible way; 'you cannot
stop at Rutherford all the year round, and it will not do for you to
lose your friends. I shall have to pay visits myself; and I am afraid I
shall not always ask your leave if any very tempting invitations come.'

'You will not need to do so,' he answered quietly; 'do you think I
should begrudge you any pleasure? I have no wish, even if I had the
right, to curtail your freedom. I am not so selfish.'

'You are never selfish,' she returned softly. 'Cyril dear, I suppose I
ought to be pleased that you feel like this; but, do you know, I am just
a little sorry.'

'Sorry!' and indeed he could hardly believe his ears, for was he not
paying her a pretty compliment?

'Yes; it makes me rather uncomfortable.