that if I ever ventured upon matrimony again, it should be a plain
face, and a noble heart; though all the while I knew I should never bring
myself really to want the plain face. And yet, just as the burnt child
dreads the fire, I have always tried to look away from beauty. Only--my
Fairy-land Princess, may I say it?--days ago I began to feel certain that
in you--YOU in golden capitals--the loveliness and the noble heart went
together. But from the moment when, stepping out of the sunset, you
walked up the garden path, right into my heart, the fact of YOU, just
being what you are, and being here, meant so much to me, that I did not
dare let it mean more. Somehow I never connected you with widowhood; and
not until you said this evening on the shore: 'I am a soldier's widow,'
did I know that you were free.--There! Now you have heard all there is to
hear. I made a bad mistake at the beginning; but I hope I am not the sort
of chap you need mind sitting on a ledge with, and calling 'Jim'."

For answer, Myra's cheek came trustfully to rest against the sleeve of
the rough tweed coat. "Jim," she said; "Oh, Jim!"

* * * * *

Presently: "So you know the Inglebys?" remarked Jim Airth.

"Yes," said Myra.

"Is 'The Lodge' near Shenstone Park?"

"The Lodge is _in_ the park. It is not at any of the gates.--I am not a
gate-keeper, Jim!--It is a pretty little house, standing by itself, just
inside the north entrance."

"Do you rent it from them?"

Myra hesitated, but only for the fraction of a second. "No; it is my own.
Lord Ingleby gave it to me."

"_Lord_ Ingleby?" Jim Airth's voice sounded like knitted brows. "Why not
_Lady_ Ingleby?"

"It was not hers, to give. All that is hers, was his."

"I see. Which of them did you know first?"

"I have known Lady Ingleby all my life," said Myra, truthfully; "and I
have known Lord Ingleby since his marriage."

"Ah. Then he became your friend, because he married her?"

Myra laughed. "Yes," she said. "I suppose so."

"What's the joke?"

"Only that it struck me as an amusing way of putting it; but it is
undoubtedly true."

"Have they any children?"

Myra's voice shook slightly. "No, none. Why do you ask?"

"Well, in the campaign, I often shared Lord Ingleby's tent; and he used
to talk in his sleep."

"Yes?"

"There was one name he often called and repeated."

Lady Ingleby's heart stood still.

"Yes?" she said, hardly breathing