she returned, in a voice he hardly
recognised--it was so soft and full of feeling; "but how I shall miss
mine!" and here Elizabeth's eyes were very sad. She looked at the bare
flower-stalks in her hands rather remorsefully before she threw them
away and returned to the house.

On their way to the station Malcolm occupied a seat next to the driver.
Now and then Elizabeth glanced up at the broad shoulders a little
wistfully. How silent he was, she did not once hear his voice! While
they waited for the train, he and Harry Strickland paced up and down
the platform. The train was rather full, one or two strangers were in
their compartment, and whether accidentally or by purpose, Malcolm was
shut off from the rest of his party.

At Waterloo a silent hand-shake was all that passed between him and
Elizabeth, and even to Dinah he said little; but as he drove off in the
hansom, he told himself that he had done right, and that he did not
regret a single word he had spoken.

It was far better for her to know the truth: he understood her so
well--she was not dense, but she was wilfully blinding her eyes; very
likely she was misled by his calm, matter-of-fact manner.

"She thinks I have got over it--that I have come to my senses, and
accepted the inevitable--that we can be friends in the comfortable,
approved fashion"--here Malcolm's eyes flashed with sudden fire--"but
she has found out her mistake. No, there shall be no more deception.
When I see her again I shall wear my true colours--though Heaven forbid
that I should persecute her with attentions that only embarrass and
distress her. No, you are safe with me, dear," he murmured inwardly;
"but even for your sweet sake I will not act a lie. I am Dinah's
friend, but your lover, Elizabeth--and must be as long as I have life
and breath"--and somehow this solemn avowal of his heart's secret did
Malcolm good. But Dinah noticed that Elizabeth was more than usually
depressed for some time after their return to the Wood House.

CHAPTER XLII

THE WHIRLIGIG OF TIME

Give what you have; to some it may be better than
you dare to think.
--LONGFELLOW.

The Possible stands by us ever fresh,
Fairer than aught which any life hath owned,
And makes divine amends.
--JEAN INGELOW.

Two years had passed away since Malcolm had uttered his passionate
protest in the Priory g