een them. With the almost
supernatural quickness of a loving woman's intuition, she had divined
that something was passing in his mind, inimical to her most vital
interests, so she shunned his company, and received his conventional
advances with a politeness which was as cold as it was crushing. This
did not please Geoffrey; it is one thing (in her own interests, of
course) to make up your mind heroically to abandon a lady whom you do
not wish to compromise, and quite another to be snubbed by that lady
before the moment of final separation. Though he never put the idea into
words or even defined it in his mind--for Geoffrey was far too anxious
and unhappy to be flippant, at any rate in thought--he would at heart
have wished her to remain the same, indeed to wax ever tenderer, till
the fatal time of parting arrived, and even to show appreciation of his
virtuous conduct.

But to the utter destruction of most such hands as Geoffrey held, loving
women never will play according to the book. Their conduct imperils
everything, for it is obvious that it takes two to bring an affair of
this nature to a dignified conclusion, even when the stakes are highest,
and the matter is one of life and death. Beatrice after all was very
much of a woman, and she did not behave much better than any other woman
would have done. She was angry and suspicious, and she showed it,
with the result that Geoffrey grew angry also. It was cruel of her, he
thought, considering all things. He forgot that she could know nothing
of what was in his mind, however much she might guess; also as yet he
did not know the boundless depth and might of her passion for him, and
all that it meant to her. Had he realised this he would have acted very
differently.

They came home and took tea, then Mr. Granger and Elizabeth made ready
to go to evening service. To Geoffrey's dismay Beatrice did the same. He
had looked forward to a quiet walk with her--really this was not to be
borne. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, she was ready the first,
and he got a word with her.

"I did not know that you were going to church," he said; "I thought that
we might have had a walk together. Very likely I shall have to go away
early to-morrow morning."

"Indeed," answered Beatrice coldly. "But of course you have your work to
attend to. I told Elizabeth that I was coming to church, and I must go;
it is too sultry to walk; there will be a storm soon."

At this moment Elizabet