een loved before as I loved her."

"I imagine not."

"I can't believe she ever cared for the Duke. I saw him once, and he
gave me the impression of a very cold-blooded individual."

"I don't think he was cold-blooded."

"Evidently not the kind of man capable of drawing the best out of a
woman like Fay."

"Perhaps not."

The man who felt himself capable of this feat prodded a daisy and then
went on:

"You used to see a good deal of them in Rome before--while you were
_attache_ there. Did you gather that it was a happy marriage, a true
union?"

"Not very happy."

"I daresay he was selfish and inconsiderate. That is generally the crux
in married life. Fay has had an overshadowed life so far, but I shall
find my chief happiness in changing all that. It will be my object to
guard her from the slightest touch of pain in future. The masculine
impulse to shield and protect is very strongly developed in me."

"It is sometimes difficult to guard people," said Michael half to
himself.

"I hope some day," Wentworth went on shyly, colouring under his tan,
"your turn may come, that you may meet the right woman, and feel as I do
now. It will be a revelation to you. I am afraid it may seem exaggerated
in a person like myself, who am essentially a man's man. (This was a
favourite illusion of Wentworth's.) But some day you will understand,
and you will find as I have done that love is not just slothfully
accepting a woman's slavish devotion."

"Indeed!"

"No, Michael, believe me, it is something far greater. It is living not
only for self, but as for her sake. To take trouble to win the smile of
one we love, to gladly forego one's momentary pleasures, one's
convenience, in order to serve her. That is the best reward of life."

Michael's eyes filled with tears. He felt a hundred years older than
Wentworth at that moment. A tender pained compassion welled up within
him. And with it came a new protective comprehension of the man beside
him who had cherished him from his childhood onwards.

He put out his hand and gripped Wentworth's.

"God bless you, Wenty," he said.

And for a moment they who were so far apart seemed very near together.

CHAPTER XXXI

She sees no tears,
Or any tone
Of thy deep groan
She hears:
Nor does she mind
Or think on't now
That ever thou
Wast kind.

--HERRICK.

It quickly became plain to Magdalen that Fay's peace of mind had been
s