our mouth
open. A great amount of wisdom such as this came to him at the spur of
the moment. But there was her hand upon his arm, and he could not elude
her request. "Will you not do it for me?" she asked again.

"I will," he said, still keeping his face turned away.

"I knew it;--I knew you would. You are high-minded and honest, and cannot
be cruel to a poor girl. And if in time to come, when I am Harry
Annesley's wife, we shall chance to meet each other,--as we will,--he
shall thank you."

"I shall not want that. What will his thanks do for me? You do not think
that I shall be silent to oblige him?" Then he walked forth from out of
the garden, and she had never seen his tears. But she knew well that he
was weeping, and she sympathized with him.

CHAPTER XXXII.

MR. ANDERSON IS ILL.

When they went down to dinner that day it became known that Mr. Anderson
did not intend to dine with them. "He's got a headache," said Sir
Magnus. "He says he's got a headache. I never knew such a thing in my
life before." It was quite clear that Sir Magnus did not think that his
lieutenant ought to have such a headache as would prevent his coming to
dinner, and that he did not quite believe in the headache. There was a
dinner ready, a very good dinner, which it was his business to provide.
He always did provide it, and took a great deal of trouble to see that
it was good. "There isn't a table so well kept in all Brussels," he used
to boast. But when he had done his share he expected that Anderson and
Arbuthnot should do theirs, especially Anderson. There had been
sometimes a few words,--not quite a quarrel but nearly so,--on the subject
of dining out. Sir Magnus only dined out with royalty, cabinet
ministers, and other diplomats. Even then he rarely got a good
dinner--what he called a good dinner. He often took Anderson with him.
He was the _doyen_ among the diplomats in Brussels, and a little
indulgence was shown to him. Therefore he thought that Anderson should
be as true to him as was he to Anderson. It was not for Anderson's sake,
indeed, who felt the bondage to be irksome;--and Sir Magnus knew that his
subordinate sometimes groaned in spirit. But a good dinner is a good
dinner,--especially the best dinner in Brussels,--and Sir Magnus felt that
something ought to be given in return. He had not that perfect faith in
mankind which is the surest evidence of a simple mind. Ideas crowded
upon him. Had Anderson a snug little