shade less of a gentleman, he would have
said something which Mrs. Lancaster could never have forgotten. As it
was, he had sufficient command of himself to speak carelessly. "I was
never quick at reading riddles," he said. "I am unable to imagine what
sacrifice I should make by indulging the 'hopeless passion' for Miss
Milbourne with which you are kind enough to credit me."

"With which I credit you?" she repeated eagerly. "Am I wrong, then? If
you can tell me _that_, Victor--"

But he interrupted her quickly: "You ought to know, Mrs. Lancaster,
that this is a thing which a sensible man only tells to one woman;
but, since you seem to take an interest in the subject, there is
nothing which I need hesitate to acknowledge in the fact that, however
hopeless my passion for Eleanor Milbourne may be, it is the very
essence of my life, and can only end with my life."

"We all think that when we are young and foolish, and very much in
love," said Mrs. Lancaster coolly--whatever stab his words gave the
kindly darkness hid--"but I think you are more than usually mad. If
she is not already engaged to Marston Brent, she will be as soon as he
returns. I know that her family confidently expect the match, and in
any case" (emphatically) "Eleanor Milbourne is the last woman in the
world whom a penniless man need hope to win."

"I know that as well as you do," said Clare. "I have no hope of
winning her, and I am going to Egypt next month."

He uttered the last words as if he meant them to end the subject, but
it is doubtful whether they would have done so if they had not at
that moment found themselves close upon the house, having paid little
attention to the path which they were following. As they emerged from
the shrubbery they were both a little surprised to see a carriage
standing in the full glow of the light from the open hall door.

"Who can have arrived?" said Mrs. Lancaster, not sorry, perhaps, for a
diversion. "I did not know that Mrs. Brantley was expecting any one."

"Who has come, Ellis?" Victor said carelessly to a young man who
emerged from the house as they approached.

"Marston Brent," was the answer. "It seems the Clytie made a very
quick trip, and came into port yesterday; so of course her owner has
come at once to report his safe arrival at head-quarters."

Mrs. Lancaster, whose hand was still on Clare's arm, felt the quick
start which he gave at this information, but she was a discreet woman,
and she said n