l; and I wanted--was it selfish?--I wanted the joy of revealing my
own identity when I had you, at last, in my own beautiful home. Oh, my
dear--my dear! Cannot our love stand the test of so light a thing as
this?"

She ceased speaking and waited.

She was sure of her victory; but it seemed strange, in dealing with so
fine a nature as that of the man she loved, that she should have had to
fight so hard over what appeared to her a paltry matter. But she knew
false pride often rose gigantic about the smallest things; the very
unworthiness of the cause seeming to add to the unreasonable growth of
its dimensions.

She was deeply hurt; but she was a woman, and she loved him. She waited
patiently to see his love for her arise victorious over unworthy pride.

At last Jim Airth stood up.

"I cannot face it yet," he said, slowly. "I must be alone. I ought to
have known from the very first that you were--are--Lady Ingleby. I am
very sorry that you should have to suffer for that which is no fault of
your own. I must--go--now. In twenty-four hours, I will come back to talk
it over."

He turned, without another word; without a touch; without a look. He
swung round on his heel, and walked away across the lawn.

Myra's dismayed eyes could scarcely follow him.

He mounted the terrace; passed into the house. A door closed.

Jim Airth was gone!

CHAPTER XVII

"SURELY YOU KNEW?"

Myra Ingleby rose and wended her way slowly towards the house.

A stranger meeting her would probably have noticed nothing amiss with the
tall graceful woman, whose pallor might well have been due to the unusual
warmth of the day.

But the heart within her was dying.

Her joy had received a mortal wound. The man she adored, with a love
which had placed him at the highest, was slowly slipping from his
pedestal, and her hands were powerless to keep him there.

A woman may drag her own pride in the dust, and survive the process; but
when the man she loves falls, then indeed her heart dies within her.

She had loved to call Jim Airth a cowboy. She knew him to be avowedly
cosmopolitan. But was he also a slave to vulgar pride? Being plain Jim
Airth himself, did he grudge noble birth and ancient lineage to those to
whom they rightfully belonged? Professing to scorn titles, did he really
set upon them so exaggerated a value, that he would turn from the woman
he was about to wed, merely because she owned a title, while he had
none?

Myra, en