ndle into the farthest corner
of the room. 'Why not true? I have kept it hitherto. It has been with me
in many very strange places.'

Then there was a pause,--while he thought of escaping, and she of
utilising the occasion. And yet it was not in her nature to be
unmaidenly or aggressive Only if he did like her it would be so very
nice, and it is so often the case that men want a little encouragement!
'I dare say you thought more of the book than the donor.'

'That is intended to be unkind.'

'No;--certainly not. I can never be unkind to a friend who has been so
very good as you were to poor Dick. Whatever else may happen, I
shall,--never,--forget--that.' By this time there was a faint sound of
sobbing to be heard, and then she turned away her face that she might
wipe a tear from her eyes. It was a real tear, and a real sob, and she
really thought that she was in love with him.

'I know I ought not to have come here,' he said.

'Why not?' she asked energetically.

'Because my coming would give rise to so much sadness about your
brother.'

'I am so glad you have come,--so very glad. Of course we wanted to hear.
And besides----'

'What besides?'

'Papa and mamma, and all of them, are so glad to see you. We never
forget old friends.' Then again there was silence. 'Never,' she
repeated, as she rose from her chair slowly and went out of the room.
Though he had fluttered flamewards now and again, though he had shown
some moth-like aptitudes, he had not shown himself to be a downright,
foolish, blind-eyed moth, determined to burn himself to a cinder as a
moth should do. And she;--she was weak. Having her opportunity at
command, she went away and left him, because she did not know what more
to say. She went away to her own bedroom, and cried, and had a headache,
during the remainder of the day. And yet there was no other day!

Late that evening, just at the hour when, on the previous night, he was
closeted with the father, he found himself closeted with the mother.
'She has never forgotten you for one moment since you left us,' said the
mother. Mrs. Shand had rushed into the subject so quickly that these
were almost the first words she said to him. He remained quite quiet,
looking out from the open window into the moonlight. When a distinct
proposition was made to him like this, he certainly would not be a moth.
'I don't know whether you have thought of her too, Mr. Caldigate.' He
only shook his head. 'That is so?'