. Another man asked me to marry him before we left
home. I did not love him, but he was well-off and had a nice house, and
for a few minutes I was tempted. I told him so, and he said he did not
want me if I could not care for himself alone... Perhaps if he had
begged very hard I might have said `yes.'"

Margot smiled--a very kindly smile.

"The cases are not precisely similar, are they? Instead of playing a
double game you were absolutely honest; much more honest than is usual
on such occasions. And he was a wise man. I think I should have liked
that man! Compare him with Victor Druce sometimes, Ruth; it may help
you to be brave... Now I am going back to the garden to act my part.
We will meet and talk again, but we can't stay away any longer just now
without attracting attention... Just tell me one thing before I go--Can
you forgive me for shattering your dream?" She held out her hand, and
Ruth took it in both hers.

"I have nothing to forgive. It is only wakening a little sooner; that's
all!" she said tremulously.

Margot bent down lightly, and touched her forehead with her lips, then
turned swiftly away, and Ruth was left alone. Poor, disenchanted Ruth,
wideawake at last, in the midst of the deserted cabbage-patch!

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

JACK MELLAND'S SECRET.

When Mr Farrell's guests assembled for dinner, on their return from the
garden-party, it was at once evident that the old gentleman was in one
of his difficult moods. From the beginning he had affected to
disapprove of Mrs Thornton's extravagance in attempting to entertain on
so large a scale, while sedulously keeping himself informed as to every
detail of the preparations. The anonymous present of fruit had
furnished him with a subject for much satirical comment, as had also the
girls' endeavours to beautify the house and grounds.

Now he found a fresh grievance in the fact that dinner was delayed a few
minutes past its usual hour, and that the young people appeared
depressed, rather than elated by their experiences. Ruth's plea of a
headache was justified by her wan looks; Jack was moody, and even Victor
was for once silent and distrait. It was left to Mollie to stem the
tide, and she raised herself nobly to the effort, albeit her own heart
was none too light.

"It went off beautifully, Uncle Bernard! Shall I tell you all about it
from the beginning?" she cried, smiling at his grim visage across the
dinner-table; and when he