you've gone it hard to-night, old fellow," said Damer, as we
drove away from the Towers. "You and Miss Chislett will be county talk
for six months to come."

"Nonsense," said I, "we knew each other years ago, and had a good deal
to talk about."

But to Polly, as we parted for the night in the corridor, I said, "My
dear child, to add to all the family complications, I'm head over ears
in love with the future Lady Damer."

CHAPTER XXXI

MY LADY FRANCES--THE FUTURE LADY DAMER--WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AT
LAST

It was true. My theories and my disappointment went to the winds. We
had few common acquaintances or social interests to talk about, and
yet the time we spent together never seemed long enough for our fluent
conversation. We had always a thousand things to say when we met, and
feeling as if we had been together all our lives, I felt also utterly
restless and wretched when I was not with her. Of course, I learnt her
history. She and her sister were the little ladies I had seen in my
childhood. The St. John family were their cousins, and as the boy, of
whom mention has been made, did die in Madeira, the property
eventually came to Frances Chislett and her sister. The estate was
sold, and they were co-heiresses. Adeline, the other sister, soon came
to the Towers. She was more like her old self than Frances. The
exquisitely, strangely fair hair, the pale-blue eyes, the gentle
helpless look, all were the same. She was very lovely, but Frances was
like no other woman I had ever seen before, or have ever met with
since. I resolved to ask Lionel Damer how matters really stood between
them, and, if he were not engaged to her, to try my luck. One day when
she was with us at the Hall I decided upon this. I was told that
Lionel was in the library, and went to seek him. As I opened the door
I saw him standing in front of Polly, who was standing also. He was
speaking with an energy rare with him, and in a tone of voice quite
strange to me.

"It's not like you to say what's not true," he was saying. "You are
_not_ well, you are _not_ happy. You may deceive every one else,
Polly, but you can never deceive me. All these years, ever since I
first knew you--"

I stole out, shut the door, and went to seek Frances. I found her by
Rubens' grave, and there we plighted our troth.

* * * * *

It was in the evening of the same day that Polly and I met in the
hall, on our way to attempt the