yet he knew she
read him deeper than any one else, and flattered him least.

He put out his hand, and took hers.

"You take large responsibilities," he said, "but I will try and justify
you--honestly, yes."

In her hearty way, she kissed him on the cheek. "There," she responded,
"if you and Delia do make up your minds, see that you treat her
well. And you are to come, just as soon as you are able, to stay at
Peppingham. Delia, silly child, is anxious, and can't see why she
mustn't call with me now."

In his room at the Court that night, Gaston inquired of Jacques about
Alice Wingfield, and was told that on the day of the accident she had
left with her grandfather for the Continent. He was not sorry. For his
own sake he could have wished an understanding between them. But now he
was on the way to marriage, and it was as well that there should be no
new situations. The girl could not wish the thing known. There would
be left him, in this case, to befriend her should it ever be needed. He
remembered the spring of pleasure he felt when he first saw other faces
like his father's--his grandfather's, his grandmother's. But this
girl's was so different to him; having the tragedy of the lawless, that
unconscious suffering stamped by the mother upon the child. There was,
however, nothing to be done. He must wait.

Two days later Lady Dargan called to inquire after him. He was lying in
his study with a book, and Lady Belward sent to ask him if he would care
to see her and Lord Dargan's nephew, Cluny Vosse. Lady Belward did not
come; Sir William brought them. Lady Dargan came softly to him, smiled
more with her eyes than her lips, and told him how sorry she had been to
hear of his illness. Some months before Gaston had met Cluny Vosse,
who at once was his admirer. Gaston liked the youth. He was fresh,
high-minded, extravagant, idle; but he had no vices, and no particular
vanity save for his personal appearance. His face was ever radiant
with health, shining with satisfaction. People liked him, and did not
discount it by saying that he had nothing in him. Gaston liked him most
because he was so wholly himself, without guile, beautifully honest.

Now Cluny sat down, tapped the crown of his hat, looked at him cheerily,
and said:

"Got in a cracker, didn't he?"

Gaston nodded, amused.

"The fellows at Brooke's had a talkee-talkee, and they'd twenty
different stories. Of course it was rot. We were all cut up though
and hoped