reply, but she knew that his question contained the truth.

"You will be my wife, signorina? Forgive me if I cannot tell you all
that is in my heart. But it is the dearest wish of my life--nay more,
all I hope for, all I live for, depends on your answer. Let that story
be forgotten. There, it is gone for ever. Tell me that you will be my
wife."

"But my promise," she said weakly.

"Your promise--what is it?" he laughed. "A promise made in a moment of
excitement, made when you did not realise what it meant. You did not
think he would die, and since he is dead--what does it avail? That is
all gone. It has no meaning. It has no more binding power than a
gossamer thread. You must be mine. I was led here that this hour might
come. You will be my wife, signorina?"

Still she hesitated, and then the man pleaded again, pleaded with
burning words, and as he spoke barriers seemed to break down one by
one. Her fear passed away, her heart grew warm again. He seemed to cast
a kind of spell on her once more, and she had no desire to refuse him.

"You will be my wife," he said, "you will fulfil the dreams of years,
you will bring light and joy into my life--say you will--Olive."

She held out her hand and looked up into his face, and then he caught
her in his arms; but even as he did so it seemed as though the dead past
came back again, and that it was Leicester, and not the stranger, who
held her to his heart.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SECOND MEETING OF THE CYNIC AND THE COUNTRYWOMAN

"You'll be back for your lunch, Mr. Ricordo?"

"No, Mrs. Briggs. I'm going for a long walk, a very long walk; I don't
know how far."

"But you'll be back for dinner to-night?"

"Don't expect me till you see me."

The simple country-woman looked up into his face, and although she did
not know why, she thought she saw a change in him. The old look of
cynical melancholy was gone, the eyes were no longer half closed, but
wide open, eager, expectant.

"Did 'ee sleep well last night, sur?"

"I had strange dreams, Mrs. Briggs, very strange."

"Pleasant, I hope, sur."

"They were very strange, very wonderful. Good-morning, Mrs. Briggs.
Don't be anxious about me."

He left the house and took the road up to the golf links. When he
reached the top of the hill, he stopped and took a long look at Olive's
home. He knew she expected him this morning; he had told her that he
would come and ask her father to consent to her becoming his wife. B