se in her face. But she
was too proud to protest.

"As you wish," she said coldly.

Conversation during lunch was distinctly laboured. Wingarde's silences
were many and oppressive. It was an unspeakable relief to the girl when
at length he took himself off. She told herself with a wry smile that he
was getting on her nerves. She did not yet own that he frightened her.

The afternoon's rest did her good; and when he returned she was ready
for him.

He looked at her, as she sat in the garden before the tea-table in her
muslin dress and big straw hat, with a shade of approval in his eyes.

He threw himself down into a chair beside her without speaking.

"Have you been far?" she asked.

"To the top of the hill," he answered. "I had a splendid view of the
sea."

"It must have been perfect," she said.

"You have been there?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered, "long ago; with Archie."

Wingarde turned his head and looked at her attentively. She tried to
appear unconscious of his scrutiny, and failed signally. Before she
could control it, the blood had rushed to her face.

"And you found it worth doing?" he asked.

The question seemed to call for no reply, and she made none.

But yet again she felt as if he had insulted her.

She was still burning with silent resentment when they started on their
walk. He strolled beside her, cool and unperturbed. If he guessed her
mood, he made no sign.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked presently.

"It is the road to the wishing-gate," she replied icily. "There is a
good view of the lake farther on."

He made no further enquiry, and they walked on in dead silence through
exquisite scenery.

They reached the wishing-gate, and the girl stopped almost
involuntarily.

"Is this the fateful spot?" said Wingarde, coming suddenly out of his
reverie. "What is the usual thing to do? Cut our names on the gate-post?
Rather a low-down game, I always think."

She uttered a sudden, breathless laugh. "My name is here already," she
said, pointing with a finger that shook slightly at some minute
characters cut into the second bar of the gate.

He bent and looked at the inscription--two names cut with infinite care,
two minute hearts intertwined beneath.

Nina watched him with a scornful little smile on her lips.

"Artistic, isn't it?" she said.

He straightened himself abruptly, and their eyes met. There was a
curious glint in his that she had never seen before. She put her