rievous disappointment and passionate
pity, for Elizabeth's choice seemed to her a great mistake. David
Carlyon was a dear fellow, and as good as gold, but he was not equal to
Malcolm.

"If only they had met a year ago," she thought, "before David's
influence grew so strong, she would surely have discovered then that
they were made for each other. Mr. Herrick is just the sort of man she
would have admired. There is something striking and original about him,
and then in spite of his cleverness he is so simple and good. Oh,
Betty, my darling," she went on, "why could you not have given me such
a brother! I should have been so proud of him!" And then Dinah checked
herself in very shame, for she remembered how she had promised
Elizabeth the previous evening that she would take David Carlyon to her
sisterly heart.

It was not a very cheerful birthday tea, though each one of the trio
tried to do his or her best to promote innocent hilarity. Elizabeth
talked a great deal, but her face was still flushed, and she rather
avoided her lover's eyes, and as for David he talked principally to
Dinah. He told funny little parish stories which made her laugh, and to
which Elizabeth listened with a manifest effort, and he took no notice
when she chimed in with some irrelevant remark. Dinah wondered to
herself more than once if he really had not noticed that Elizabeth's
eyelids were still reddened, in spite of cold water and eau de Cologne.
David was certainly a little dense in his happiness, she thought, and
then she sighed involuntarily as she thought of the lonely man who had
left them.

"He will take it hardly," she said to herself. "His nature is intense,
and he will suffer more than most men;" and as this thought passed
through her mind, she looked up and found David's keen, bright eyes
fixed on her, and coloured a little as though he had read her thoughts.

When tea was over, Dinah made some transparent little excuse to go back
to the house, for in these sweet, early days of their happiness she
knew well that the lovers would have much to say to each other. And she
was not wrong: before she was out of sight David had flung himself down
at Elizabeth's feet, and had taken her hands.

"What is it, dearest?" he said tenderly. "You have been shedding
tears--do you think I did not know that?" Then Elizabeth blushed as
though she were a child discovered in a fault. "Tell me all about it,
darling," he whispered; but she shook her head