quiry. The brown eyes were for
once fully open and looking down at her with an expression half smiling,
half melancholy. "You know it would be your own!" he said softly, and
she flushed in quick denial.

"No, no; it's impossible to be certain. I hope, of course, but-- At
first I thought Uncle Bernard liked me best, but lately Mollie seems to
have cut me out."

"But we are told that liking has nothing to do with the great decision."

"I know, and that does away at once with so many qualities with one fell
swoop, that one can hardly tell what is left. It puts amiability out of
the question, and unselfishness and cheerfulness, and--and tact, and
everything which makes us care for a person or not. When they are gone,
what is left?"

"A great many things, just as Mr Farrell's knowledge of our characters
and actions is far more extensive than you suspect. We meet at meals,
and in the evening, and for the rest of the day one would imagine that
we are beyond his ken, but I have discovered that to be a mistake. In
some mysterious fashion he knows all that we do, and guesses fairly
accurately what we think! ... Would you imagine, for instance, that he
knew that this seat was our favourite resort, and that we have enjoyed
some very pleasant _tete-a-tetes_ here during the last few weeks? Would
you imagine that he knew who gave me that white rosebud which I wore as
a button-hole last night?"

Ruth's face was a rose itself at that moment, a red, red rose, as the
colour flew from her cheeks up to the roots of her hair. Her eyes
wavered, and fell.

"How can he know? How do you know he knows?" she queried confusedly;
and Victor shrugged his shoulders.

"How, I can't tell you, but I suspect his man James is a useful source
of information. I know that he knows, because of several caustic
remarks which he has let fall from time to time, to which my legal
experience easily gives me the clue. I have come to the conclusion that
he knows pretty well what we are about every hour of the day!"

"Even when you go out riding by yourself, and meet Lady Margot in the
lanes?" questioned Ruth, stung by a sudden rising of jealousy, which she
was unable to control. The words were no sooner spoken than regretted,
and regret deepened into shame as Victor turned his calmly surprised
eyes upon her.

"Certainly! as I told him myself in the first instance. Since then I
have been fortunate enough to meet her again once or twice. The g