d forever,--all's over between
us! She is no niece of mine. She is dead to me. I'll not speak to her,
nor willingly look upon her face again. I am a man of my word. I have
the honour, sir, to bid you a very good-day." He drew out and looked at
his ponderous watch. "I shall remain here with my niece for an hour.
Perhaps in that time she will awaken to her old truth, her old duty;
and perhaps you will require no more in which to gather your papers and
remove yourself from Fontenoy?"

"I shall not need the hour," answered Rand. "I will be gone presently.
God knows, sir, I had not thought to go this way." He turned from his
host and bent for a moment over Jacqueline. "Good-bye," he said.
"Good-bye for a little while! My heart is in your hands. I trust you for
constancy. Good-bye--good-bye!"

He was gone, moving rapidly toward the house. Colonel Churchill drew a
long sigh, wiped his face with his handkerchief, and looked miserably up
to the green boughs where the mockingbird was singing. He wished again
for Edward, and he wished that Henry had not died. He believed in
Heaven, and he knew that Henry was there, but then the thought came into
his mind that Henry was here, too, in the person of his child, prone on
the summer-house steps. Henry, also, had been a man of his word, had
known his own mind, and exercised his will. There, too, had been the
veil of sweetness! The Colonel sighed more heavily, wished again
impatiently for Edward, then marched to the summer-house, and, sitting
down, began to reason with Henry's daughter.

Rand passed through the Fontenoy garden, in his heart a pain that was
triumph, an exaltation that was pain. Mounting the porch steps, he found
himself in the presence of Major Edward playing Patience in the shade of
the climbing rose. The player started violently. "I thought, sir," he
said, wheeling in his chair, "I thought you yet in the blue room! How
the deuce!--I was on guard--" the Major caught himself. "I was waiting
to renew our very interesting discussion. Where have you been?"

"I have been in the garden," said Rand. He hesitated, standing by the
table. There was a debate in his mind. "Should I speak to him, too? What
is the use? He'll be no kinder to her!" He put out his hand uncertainly,
and touched one of the Major's cards. "Is it an interesting game?"

"I find it so," answered the other dryly. "Else I should not play it."

"Why do you like it? It is poor amusement to play against yoursel