was quite calm and smiling.

"Do you know who come to see me almost every day?"

"Tell me."

"Meyrick--Lord Meyrick, and Robertson. Perhaps you don't know him. He's
a Winchester man, a splendid cricketer. It was Robertson I was
struggling with when I fell. How could he know I should hurt myself? It
wasn't his fault and he gave up his 'choice' for the Oxford Eleven. They
put him in at the last moment. But he wouldn't play. I didn't know till
afterwards. I told him he was a great fool."

There was a pause. Then Connie said--with difficulty--"Did--did Mr.
Falloden write? Has he said anything?"

"Oh yes, he sent a message. After all, when you run over a dog, you send
a message, don't you?" said the lad with sudden bitterness. "And I
believe he wrote a letter--after I came here. But I didn't open it. I
gave it to Sorell."

Then he raised himself on his pillows and looked keenly at Connie.

"You see the others didn't mean any harm. They were drunk, and it was a
row. But Falloden wasn't drunk--and he did mean--"

"Oh, not to hurt you so?" cried Connie involuntarily.

"No--but to humble and trample on me," said the youth with vehemence,
his pale cheeks flaming. "He knew quite well what he was about. I felt
that when they came into my room. He is cruel--he has the temper of the
torturer--in cold blood--"

A shudder of rage went through him. His excitable Slav nature brought
everything back to him--as ugly and as real as when it happened.

"Oh, no--no!" said Constance, putting her hand over her eyes.

Radowitz controlled himself at once.

"I won't say any more," he said in a low voice, breathing deep--"I won't
say any more." But a minute afterwards he looked up again, his brow
contracting--"Only, for God's sake, don't marry him!"

"Don't be afraid," said Constance. "I shall never marry him!"

He looked at her piteously. "Only--if you care for him--what then? You
are not to be unhappy!--you are to be the happiest person in the world.
If you did care for him--I should have to see some good in him--and that
would be awful. It is not because he did me an injury, you understand.
The other two are my friends--they will be always my friends. But there
is something in Falloden's soul that I hate--that I would like to
fight--till either he drops or I. It is the same sort of feeling I have
towards those who have killed my country."

He lay frowning, his blue eyes sombrely fixed and strained.

"But now"--he drew himself