new under-gardener in the Square, who was very
susceptible to romance, put quite an erroneous interpretation on Robin's
manner to his cousin, and hovered in their vicinity with eager curiosity
till he was pulled up sharply by one of his superior officers.

"So we are all going to scatter, Nell," Drummond said, half regretfully.

She glanced at him.

"Poor Robin! It was too bad, keeping you in town."

"I haven't minded it at all, I assure you, Nell. Indeed, I couldn't have
gone happily while you were in suspense."

"Robin," she said suddenly, "what are you waiting for?"

He started. "Waiting for?" he repeated. "What do you mean, Nell?"

"You're not going to let Mary go without speaking to her?" Under her
light shawl her hand felt for and held the locket which contained the
blood-stained blue ribbon. "Haven't you waited long enough? I believe
she would wait an eternity for you, but don't try her. Speak now."

"My dear Nell," he stammered, "it is only a fortnight or so from the day
that should have been our wedding day."

"I was thinking as much. What have you had in your mind? Some foolish
Quixotic notion. What were you waiting for?"

"To tell the truth, Nell, till you should be happy."

"Don't take the chances of letting her go away without telling her. Do
you think I haven't known that you were in love with her all the time?
Why, that first day I saw her I said to myself in amazement, 'Where were
his eyes that he could have chosen you before her?'"

"Nelly, how do I know that she will look at me?"

"She will never look at anyone else. Speak now, if only in fairness to
the men who might be in love with her, who are in love with her and may
have false hopes."

"She won't look at me, Nell."

"She has sent Mr. Ilbert about his business, but he will not let her be.
He says that so long as she is not anybody else's she may yet be his. I
didn't want to betray him, but I must make you understand."

Poor Ilbert! For a moment Drummond's mind was filled with a lordly
compassion towards him. Ilbert rejected! And for him! To be sure, he
knew Mary cared for him. She was not the girl to have admitted him to
the intimacy of last winter unless she cared. She had borne with him
exquisitely. She had even taken her successful rival to her breast. He
had made her suffer, the magnanimous woman.

Suddenly he took fire. He had been a slow, dull fellow, he said to
himself, and quaked at the thought that Ilbert might have rob