thing," she said; "I would not
ask it if I could see any other way."

"Surely, Miss Anstice, you cannot doubt my willingness to oblige you
in any way. You have only to command me."

"But it is not to oblige me. It is--oh, dear! I can't explain, but I
want you to go away."

Flint rose instantly.

"No, no, not away from this spot, but from Nepaug. That's it," she
went on insistently; "I want you to leave Nepaug."

Flint stared at her for a moment, as if in doubt whether to question
her sanity or her seriousness. The latter he could not doubt, as he
looked at her eager attitude, her hands tightly interlaced, her head
bent a little forward, and a spot of deep red sharply outlined on
either cheek. Suddenly the meaning of her conversation with Leonard
flashed across his mind; but it brought only further puzzlement. He
motioned Winifred to sit down upon the great tree which lay its length
on the earth, overthrown by the last storm, and with stones and
upturned dirt still clinging to its branching roots.

"Are you sure," he said gravely, as he took a seat beside her,--"are
you sure that you are doing right to keep me in the dark?"

"I think so; I hope so."

"Of course I know you would not ask such a thing if there were not
something serious back of it all; and since it so nearly concerns me,
it seems to me I have a right to know it."

Dead silence reigned for some minutes. Then Winifred said, speaking
low and hurriedly:

"Yes, you are right; I ought to tell you,--I know I ought; but it is
so hard. Why isn't it Mr. Brady! He would understand."

"Perhaps if you would explain," Flint began with unusual patience.

"Well, then, it is about Tilly Marsden, who has been engaged these two
years to Leonard Davitt; and now she refuses to marry him, and he
thinks it is because she is in love with someone else. _Surely_ you
understand _now_."

"No, upon my soul, I don't. You can't mean that the little
shop-girl--the maid-of-all-work at the inn--is--thinks she is in love
with--"

"With you; exactly."

"But I have hardly spoken to her."

The silence which followed implied that the situation was none the
less likely on that account. The implication tinged Flint's manner
with irritation.

"I suppose I am very dull; but I confess I don't understand these
people."

"Have you ever tried to understand them?" returned Winifred, with a
sudden outburst of the indignation which had long been gathering in
her heart against the