given
my word to some one else--to some one that I love better--and I want to
know if you will forgive me and set me free."

"Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready--anxious--to
marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far----"

Enid laughed in his face.

"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am
speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield,
better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound."

He caught her by the hands.

"Really--truly--Enid? You love him?"

"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom
I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart
and soul!"--and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy
smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement.

"And are you happy?"

"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now
acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia--is not that true?"

"Enid, you are a witch!"

"And she loves you?"

He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of
tone, he said--

"I fear so, Enid."

"You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to
marry."

Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own.

"You mean because of my father?" she said, in a low voice.

"Yes--because of your father."

But he did not mean it in the sense that she attributed to his words. He
lay back in his chair, sighing heavily, and again growing very pale.

"Hubert," said the girl, "I think you are wrong. Cynthia is not to blame
for her father's actions--it is not fair to punish the innocent for the
guilty."

"My dear, I must tell you before you go on that Cynthia does not believe
her father guilty."

"Not guilty? Oh, Hubert! But you think so, do you not?"

He struggled with himself for a minute.

"No, Enid," he said at last.

Her face grew troubled and perplexed.

"But the jury said that he was guilty! You think that they were wrong?
Perhaps some new evidence has been found! I shall be glad for Cynthia's
sake if her father is innocent."

"Shall you, Enid?"

"Yes; for it must be such a terrible thing for a girl to know that her
father has committed a great crime. She can never forget it; her whole
life must be overshadowed by the remembrance. I am so thankful to think
that my own dear father--although his