u."

"But you have promised yourself," she murmured, "to Enid Vane."

"Conditionally; and I am certain--certain that she does not care for
me."

"I am not certain," she whispered.

Then there was a little pause; during which he felt that she was bracing
herself to say something which was hard for her to say.

"I have made up my mind," she said at length, "to take nothing away from
Enid Vane that is dear to her. Do you remember how she pleaded with you
for me? Do you remember how good she was--how kind? She gave me her
shilling because I had had no food that day. I never spent it--I have
that shilling still. I have worn it ever since, as a sort of talisman
against evil." She felt in her bosom and brought out the coin attached
by a little string around her neck. "It has been my greatest treasure! I
have had so few treasures in my life. And do you think I am going to be
ungrateful? If it broke my heart to give you up, I would not hesitate
one moment, when I had reason to think that you were plighted to Enid
Vane."

She drew herself away from him as she spoke, and rose to her full
height. Hubert stood before her, his eyes on the floor, his lips white
and tremulous. What could he say? He had nothing but his love to
plead--and his love looked a poor and common thing beside that purity of
motive, that height of purpose, that intensity of noble passion which at
that moment made Cynthia's face beautiful indeed.

"I will see you no more," she said. "You must go back to Enid Vane, and
you must make her happy. For me, I have another work to do. In my own
way I--I shall be happy too. There is a double barrier between us, and
we must never meet again."

"Is it a barrier that can never be broken down, Cynthia?"

"No," she said--"not unless my father is shown to be innocent to the
world and the stain removed from his name--not unless we are sure--sure
that Enid Vane has no affection for you save that of a cousin and a
friend. And those things are impossibilities; so we must say good-bye."

It seemed as if he had not understood her words. He muttered something,
and clutched at the table behind him as if to keep himself from falling.

"Impossibilities indeed!" he said hoarsely, after a moment's pause.
"Good-bye, Cynthia!"

Struck with pity for his haggard face and hollow eyes, Cynthia came up
to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his cheek.

"I was mad just now! I said more than I think I meant, Hubert. Forgiv