and saw the intense
relief in her face. "To-day?"

"No; last time I was up here. I ought to have taken it to the house at
once but--but it was a temptation to me to keep it till I could give it
back to you like this. Do forgive me."

It was plain she divined what he meant, but her cold manner came to the
aid of her embarrassment.

"I am only too glad to have it again. I am so glad you found it."

"So am I," he responded with a touch of fervour. "I wish I could relieve
your mind of everything else as easily."

"I am sure you do," she said wistfully, and impulsively half put
out her hand.

He caught it as she was in the act of checking the action and drawing it
back. "You may be sure--quite sure, of my devotion," he said, and raised
her hand to his lips.

An exclamation and a sudden start as the hand was quickly withdrawn made
him look up. Edith Morriston's eyes were fixed with something like fear
on an object behind him. An intuition told him what it was before he
looked round to see Henshaw, with his characteristic, rather stealthy
walk, coming towards them.

Gifford set his teeth hard as the two faced round and awaited
Henshaw's approach.

"This man shall not annoy you," he said in an undertone.

"Don't quarrel with him, for heaven's sake," she entreated in the same
tone, under her breath, as the disturbing presence drew near. There was
a strange excitement in her voice, though none in the set face.

"I think your brother is looking for you, Miss Morriston," Henshaw said
in his even voice when he was within a dozen paces of them.

"I was just going to look for him," the girl replied in a voice strangely
changed from that in which she had talked with Gifford. "Isn't it lucky?
Mr. Gifford has picked up in the garden a brooch I lost some days ago. I
did not dare to tell Dick, as it was his gift."

Henshaw gave a casual glance at the ornament. "I congratulate you," he
responded coolly. Then Gifford saw his eyes seek hers as he added: "Where
was it found? Near the tower?"

The covert malice of the insinuation was plain in the questioner's look,
although the tone was casual enough.

"No. On the lawn," Gifford replied quietly.

CHAPTER XIX

IN THE CHURCHYARD

Nothing more of importance happened that day at Wynford, and Gifford had
no further opportunity of private talk with Edith Morriston. But it was
evident to him, and the knowledge gave him intense concern, that the girl
went in fear of Ger