pushing me gently into an easy chair, and poking the coals into a
blaze. "You and I want a little talk to each other, I think, and we
shall be quite uninterrupted here. My poor boy has told me of his
disappointment, but, indeed, he did not need to tell me. I could see
what had happened by his face. I am very disappointed, too. I thought
he would have very different news to tell me, and I should have been
very happy to welcome you as a daughter. We have known you by name for
so many years that you did not seem like a stranger even when you first
arrived, and we have been very happy together these five weeks--"

"Oh, very happy! I have had a lovely time. I shall never forget how
happy I have been."

She looked at me anxiously, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Then if you have been so happy, I do not see why-- Let us speak out,
dear, and understand each other thoroughly. My boy and I have always
been close friends, and if I am to be of help or comfort to him now I
must understand how this trouble has come about. Wallace is not
conceited--he has a very modest estimation of his own merits, but he
seems to have expected a different answer. Sometimes in these affairs
young people misunderstand each other, and little sorenesses arise,
which a few outspoken words can smooth away. If I could act as
peacemaker between you two, I should be very thankful. My children's
happiness is my first consideration nowadays. If there is anything I
can do, just tell me honestly. Speak out as you would to your own
mother."

But I had nothing to tell. I shook my head, and faltered nervously--

"No, there is nothing--we have had no quarrels. I like Wallace very
much, oh, very much indeed, but not--I could never--I couldn't be
anything more than his friend."

"Is there then someone else whom you care for?"

There were several people, but I couldn't exactly say so to her--it
seemed so rude. Wallace was a nice, kind boy, but he couldn't compare
for interest with--Jim Carstairs, for instance, dear, silent, loyal,
patient Jim, who gives all, and asks nothing in return, or even jolly
little Mr Nash, who is always happy and smiling, and trying to make
other people happy. I like them both better than Wallace, to say
nothing of-- And then a picture rose before me of a tall, lean figure
dressed in a tweed shooting-suit, of a sunburnt face, out of which
looked blue eyes, which at one moment would twinkle with laughter, and
at the