ntil Beatrice was married;
surely her wedding must take place soon--Lord Airlie seemed unable to
exist out of her presence. When they were married and gone, Lillian
should have her turn of admiration and love. It was nothing but proud,
jealous care for her that made him delay.

And Lillian discovered her own secret at last. She knew she loved
Lionel. He was unlike every one else. Who was so handsome, so brave,
so good? She liked to look shyly at the frank, proud face and the
careless wave of hair thrown back from his brow; his voice made music
in her heart, and she wondered whether he really cared for her.

In her rare sweet humility she never saw how far she was above him; she
never dreamed that he looked up to her as a captain to his queen. He
was always by her side, he paid her a thousand graceful attentions, he
sought her advice and sympathy, some unspoken words seemed ever on his
lips. Lillian Earle asked herself over and over again whether he loved
her.

She was soon to know. From some careless words of Lord Earle's, Lionel
gathered that Beatrice's marriage would take place in November. Then
he decided, if he could win her consent, that Lillian's wedding should
be when the spring flowers were blooming.

August, with its sunny days, was at an end. Early in September Lillian
stood alone on the shore of the deep, clear lake. Lionel saw her
there, and hastened to join her, wondering at the grave expression on
her face.

"What are you thinking of, Lillian?" he asked. "You look sad and
anxious."

"I was thinking of Beatrice," she replied. "She seems so changed, so
different. I can not understand it."

"I can," said Lionel. "You forget that she will soon leave the old
life far behind her. She is going into a new world; a change so great
may well make one thoughtful."

"She loves Lord Airlie," returned Lillian--she could hear even then the
musical voice saying, "I love him so dearly, Lily"--"she can not be
unhappy."

"I do not mean that," he replied; "thought and silence are not always
caused by unhappiness. Ah, Lily," he cried, "I wonder if you guess
ever so faintly at the thoughts that fill my heart! I wonder if you
know how dearly I love you. Nay, do not turn from me, do not look
frightened. To me you are the truest, noblest, and fairest woman in
the world. I love you so dearly, Lily, that I have not a thought or
wish away from you. I am not worthy to win you, I know--you are as far