ive me a commission. There will be some
fighting now . . . there was a rumour in Grenoble last night that
Bonaparte had landed at Antibes, and was marching on Paris."

"A false rumour as usual, I suppose," she said indifferently.

"Perhaps," he replied.

There was silence between them for awhile after that, silence only
broken by the twitter of birds wakening to the call of spring. The word
"good-bye" remained unspoken: neither of them dared to say it lest it
broke the barrier of their resolve.

"Will you not go now, Maurice?" said Crystal at last in pitiable
pleading, "we only make each other hopelessly wretched, by lingering
near one another after this."

"Yes, I will go, Crystal," he replied, and this time he really forced
his voice to tones of gentleness, although his inward resentment still
bubbled out with every word he spoke, "I wish I could have left this
house altogether--now--at once--but your father would resent it--and he
has been so kind . . . I wish I could go to-day," he reiterated
obstinately, "I dread seeing Victor de Marmont in this house, where the
laws of chivalry forbid my striking him in the face."

"Maurice!" she exclaimed reproachfully.

"Nay! I'll not say it again: I have sufficient reason left in me, I
think, to show these parvenus how we, of the old regime, bear every blow
which fate chooses to deal to us. They have taken everything from us,
these new men--our lives, our lands, our very means of subsistence--now
they have taken to filching our sweethearts--curse them! but at least
let us keep our dignity!"

But again she was silent. What was there to say that had not been
said?--save that unspoken word "good-bye." And he asked very softly:

"May I kiss you for the last time, Crystal?"

"No, Maurice," she replied, "never again."

"You are still free," he urged. "You are not plighted to de Marmont
yet."

"No--not actually--not till to-night. . . ."

"Then . . . mayn't I?"

"No, Maurice," she said decisively.

"Your hand then?"

"If you like." He knelt down close to her; she yielded her hand to him
and he with his usual impulsiveness covered it with kisses into which he
tried to infuse the fervour of a last farewell.

Then without another word he rose to his feet and walked away with a
long and firm stride down the avenue. Crystal watched his retreating
figure until the overhanging branches of the ilex hid him from her view.

She made no attempt now to restrain her tears, t