bout his arm--was that true?"

I signed an assent.

Her grey eyes grew moist.

"Oh," she cried, "how I have been deceived and how little Lawrence
appreciates him! I think he must know that I've misjudged him, for he
seems so odd and shy, and I don't think he likes to talk to me."

I looked searchingly into her truthful grey eyes, thinking of poor
Derrick's unlucky love-story.

"You do not understand him," I said; "and perhaps it is best so."

But the words and the look were rash, for all at once the colour flooded
her face. She turned quickly away, conscious at last that the midsummer
dream of those yachting days had to Derrick been no dream at all, but a
life-long reality.

I felt very sorry for Freda, for she was not at all the sort of girl who
would glory in having a fellow hopelessly in love with her. I knew that
the discovery she had made would be nothing but a sorrow to her, and
could guess how she would reproach herself for that innocent past fancy,
which, till now, had seemed to her so faint and far-away--almost as
something belonging to another life. All at once we heard the others
descending, and she turned to me with such a frightened, appealing look,
that I could not possibly have helped going to the rescue. I plunged
abruptly into a discourse on Beckford, and told her how he used to keep
diamonds in a tea-cup, and amused himself by arranging them on a piece
of velvet. Sir Richard fled from the sound of my prosy voice, and,
needless to say, Derrick followed him. We let them get well in advance
and then followed, Freda silent and distraite, but every now and then
asking a question about the Major.

As for Derrick, evidently he was on guard. He saw a good deal of the
Merrifields and was sedulously attentive to them in many small ways;
but with Freda he was curiously reserved, and if by chance they did
talk together, he took good care to bring Lawrence's name into the
conversation. On the whole, I believe loyalty was his strongest
characteristic, and want of loyalty in others tried him more severely
than anything in the world.

As the spring wore on, it became evident to everyone that the Major
could not last long. His son's watchfulness and the enforced temperance
which the doctors insisted on had prolonged his life to a certain
extent, but gradually his sufferings increased and his strength
diminished. At last he kept his bed altogether.

What Derrick bore at this time no one can ever know. When,