n my ring, which I
hadn't seen till we got into the hut; and it is beautiful. I shall enjoy
having it, though only for a little while, and shall regard it as a
trust for Ellaline.

The charcoal-burner assured us we needn't worry; he would put us on the
way home, and give us landmarks which, after he'd guided us a certain
distance, we couldn't miss even at night.

When we'd finished our eggs and bacon, our tea and chunks of dry bread,
Sir Lionel laid a gold piece on the table. Blind as he was, the old man
wasn't too blind to see _that_, and he simply beamed.

"Bless you all the days of your life, sir, and your good, pretty lady!"
he cackled.

That's the third time I've been taken for Sir Lionel's wife. The other
times I didn't care, but this time, though I laughed, it was a _put on_
laugh, because of those dim questionings about myself floating in the
background of my mind.

The descendant of poachers knew the forest, as he said, "with his eyes
shut." He limped before us for nearly half a mile, along what he called
a "walk"--a New Forest word--and then abandoned us to our fate, after
describing the profile of each important tree which we must pass, and
pointing out a few stars as guides. Then we bade each other good-bye for
ever. He went back to gloat over his gold piece, and Sir Lionel and I
went on together.

Somehow, we fell to talking of our favourite virtues, and without
thinking, I said, "My mother's is gratitude."

"Gratitude," he repeated, as if in surprise, but he didn't seem to
notice that I'd used the present tense. To make him forget my slip, I
hurried on to say I thought mine was courage, in a man, anyhow. What
was his, in a woman?

"Truth," he answered, with an instant's hesitation.

Luckily he couldn't see me blush in the dark. But the real Audrie was
always decently truthful, wasn't she? It's only this Ellaline-Audrie
that isn't free to be true.

"Only in women?" I asked, uncomfortably.

"Truth goes without saying in men--the sort of men one knows," said he.

"Don't you think women love the truth as much as men?" I persisted.

"No, I don't," he answered abruptly. Then qualified his "no," as if he
ought to apologize for it. "But I haven't had much experience," he
finished, a heavy, dull sound coming into his voice.

Well, dearest, that's all I have to tell you on this, my birthday night,
except that we found our way back to the hotel safely, arriving about
half-past ten, and only Emily wa