comfortable chair. "I
have had a letter this evening," he said.

"Have you?" said Rachel, looking up at him in surprise at the unusual
note of joyousness, almost of exultation, in his tone. "What is it
about?"

"You shall read it," he said, giving it to her. Her colour rose as she
read on.

"Oh, what an opportunity!" she said, and a tinge of regret crept
strangely into her voice. "What a pity!"

"A pity?" said Rendel, looking at her.

"Yes," she said. "It would have been so delightful."

"Would have been?" said Rendel, still amazed. "Why don't you say 'will
be'? Do you mean to say you don't want to go?"

"I don't think _I_ could go," Rachel said, with a slight surprise in her
voice. "How could I?"

Rendel said nothing, but still looked at her as though finding it
difficult to realise her point of view.

"How could I leave my father?" she said, putting into words the thing
that seemed to her so absolutely obvious that she had hardly thought it
necessary to speak it.

"Do you think you couldn't?" Rendel said slowly.

"Oh, Frank, how would it be possible?" she said. "We could not leave him
alone here, and it would be much, much too far for him to go."

"Of course. I had not thought of his attempting it," said Rendel,
truthfully enough, with a sinking dread at his heart that perhaps after
all the fair prospect he had been gazing upon was going to prove nothing
but a mirage.

"You do agree, don't you?" she said, looking at him anxiously. "You do
see?"

"I am trying to see," Rendel said quietly. For a moment neither spoke.

"Oh, I couldn't," Rachel said. "I simply couldn't!" in a heartfelt tone
that told of the unalterable conviction that lay behind it. There was
another silence. Rendel stood looking straight before him, Rachel
watching him timidly. Rendel made as though to speak, then he checked
himself.

"Oh, isn't it a pity it was suggested!" Rachel cried involuntarily.
Rendel gave a little laugh. It was deplorable, truly, that such an
opportunity should have come to a man who was not going to use it.

"But could not _you_----" she began, then stopped. "How long would it be
for?"

"Oh, about five years, I suppose," said Rendel, with a sort of aloofness
of tone with which people on such occasions consent to diverge for the
moment from the main issue.

"Five years," she repeated. "That would be too long."

"Yes, five years seems a long time, I daresay," said Rendel, "as one
looks on to it."

"I