ssly amiable, and I remember she lingered over parting in a
horribly emotional manner. I was too miserable to mind: all the time I
was seeing Diana's astonished eyes, hearing Colonel Cockshott's
heartless laugh. Brutus made a kind of explanation on our way home: 'You
meant well,' he said, 'but you see you were wrong. Your proposed
sacrifice, for which I am just as grateful to you as if it had been
effected, was useless. All I could do in return was to take you where
your true inclination lay. I, too, can be unselfish.'

I was too dejected to curse his unselfishness. I did not even trouble
myself to explain what it had probably cost me. I only felt drearily
that I had had my last ride, I had had enough of horsemanship for ever!

That evening I went to the theatre, I wanted to deaden thought for the
moment; and during one of the intervals I saw Lady Verney in the stalls,
and went up to speak to her. 'Your niece is not with you?' I said; 'I
thought I should have had a chance of--of saying good-bye to her before
she left for the continent.'

I had a lingering hope that she might ask me to lunch, that I might have
one more opportunity of explaining.

'Oh,' said Lady Verney, 'but that is all changed; we are not going--at
least, not yet.'

'Not going!' I cried, incredulous for very joy.

'No, it is all very sudden; but,--well, you are almost like an old
friend, and you are sure to hear it sooner or later. I only knew myself
this afternoon, when she came in from her ride. Colonel Cockshott has
proposed and she has accepted him. We're _so_ pleased about it. Wasn't
dear Mrs. ---- delightful in that last act? I positively saw real tears
on her face!'

If I had waited much longer she would have seen a similar display of
realism on mine. But I went back and sat the interval out, and listened
critically to the classical selection of chamber-music from the
orchestra, and saw the rest of the play, though I have no notion how it
ended.

All that night my heart was slowly consumed by a dull rage that grew
with every sleepless hour; but the object of my resentment was not
Diana. She had only done what as a woman she was amply justified in
doing after the pointed slight I had apparently inflicted upon her. Her
punishment was sufficient already, for, of course, I guessed that she
had only accepted the Colonel under the first intolerable sting of
desertion. No: I reserved all my wrath for Brutus, who had betrayed me
at the moment o