eared Michael? There was a quiet power about him that, in spite of his
gentleness, seemed to subdue her, and though he was very pale, there was
a fire in his eyes that made her unwilling to look at him. Yes, it was
indeed a new Michael--one she could hardly understand.

'Certainly I do not wish it,' he replied quickly. 'Can love come by
trying?' But she could not answer him this. 'Any such love would not
content me,' he went on; 'I must have all your heart or none. Forgive me
if I say one thing, Audrey. I believe that poor Blake had not all that
you have to give. I have thought this more than once; his love for you
was so great that yours could hardly equal it. Nay, dear, I did not
mean to hurt you by saying this,' for she was weeping now. 'You were
goodness itself to him.'

'I loved him; I am sure I loved him,' she said a little piteously, for
Michael's words seemed to touch a sore spot.

How often since Cyril's death had she blamed herself for not loving him
more! More than once his excessive tenderness had wearied her, and she
would have been content with less. She had been in no hurry to shorten
her engagement, and the thought of resigning her maidenly freedom had
always been distasteful to her. Could it be possible that Michael was
right, and that there was something defective in her love?

'Yes, you loved him. Blake has often told me that you were an angel of
goodness to him. He missed nothing, you may be sure of that; but,
Audrey, I cannot help my nature. I should ask more than ever he did.'

Then her head drooped, and he knew that no answer was possible.

'So you know why I am going away.' And now he rose and again stood
before her. 'Because under these circumstances it would no longer be
possible for us to be together--at least, it would not be possible for
me. 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?'

'Send for you?'

'Yes; be true to your own noble self, your own honest nature, and be
true to me. You need not say many words. Just "Michael, come," will be
enough to bring me from the very ends of the earth.'

'But you will come before that; you will not wait for any such words?'

But though he gave no special answer to this, she saw by his face that
he would wait.

'But you will write, Michael? you will not leave me'--and then sh