into his
hand; she drew a sigh of perfect well-being and content. This man, at
any rate, she could trust with all her heart.

"Do you love me a little, Enid?"

"I think so."

"You are not yet sure?"

"I am not sure of anything; I have been so tossed about--so
perplexed--so troubled. I feel as if I could be at rest with you--is
that enough?"

"For the present. We will wait; and, if you feel more for me, or if you
feel less--whatever happens--you must let me know, and I will be
content."

"You are very good! But, oh"--with a sudden shrinking movement--"I--I
shall have broken my word!"

"Yes; I am sorry that you have to do it. But better break your word than
marry a man you do not love."

"And who does not love me," said Enid, in an exceedingly low tone.

"Are you really sure of that, Enid?"

"Indeed--indeed I think so! He is so cold and indifferent, and we never
agree when we talk together--he seems impatient of my ideas. Our tastes
are quite different; I am sure that I should not be happy with him, nor
he with me."

"You will be brave then, my love, and tell him so?"

"Yes." But again she shrank from him. "Oh, what shall I do if she--if
Flossy tells me that I must?"

Mr. Evandale frowned.

"Are you so much afraid of Mrs. Vane?"

"Yes," she said timorously--"I am. She--she frightens me! Oh, don't be
angry! I know I am very weak; but indeed I cannot help it!"--and she
burst into despairing tears.

"My darling, my poor little Enid, I am not angry at all! We will brave
her together, you and I. You shall not be afraid of her any longer; you
will know that I am always near you to protect you--to strengthen you.
And you will trust to me?"

She tried to answer "Yes;" but her strength suddenly seemed to die away
from her. She slipped from his arm and lay back upon the cushions; a
bluish tinge overspread her lips; her face turned deathly white; she
seemed upon the verge of a swoon.

Evandale, alarmed as he was, did not lose his presence of mind.
Fortunately he had in his pocket a flask of brandy which he had been
about to carry to a sick parishioner. In a moment he had it uncorked and
was compelling her to swallow a mouthful or two; then he fanned her with
the great black fan which had lain upon her lap; and finally he
remembered that he had seen a great watering-can full of water standing
in the garden path not far away, and found that it had not been removed.
The cold water with which he moistened her