for the last time. It has caused me a
world of misery. It may have been followed by other words, but I did
not catch them. I asked you if you had told her that I loved her, and
you answered, 'Yes, but--'"

Captain Guy slapped his leg, "By George!" he said; "that was enough to
put a man on the rack. Mary, you should have told him more than that."

Mary Phillips wrinkled her forehead and gazed steadfastly into her lap.
Suddenly she looked up.

"I remember it," she said; "I remember exactly what I answered or tried
to answer. I said, 'Yes, but she knew it before.'"

I sprang to my feet. "What do you mean?" I cried.

"Of course she knew it," she cried: "we must both have been very stupid
if we hadn't known that. We knew it before we left New York; and, for
my part, I wondered why you didn't tell her. But as you never mentioned
it, of course it wasn't for us to bring up the subject."

"Bertha knew I loved her?" I ejaculated. "And what--and how--what did
she say of it? What did she think of it?"

"Well," said Mary Phillips, laughing, "I could never see that she
doubted it; I could never see that she objected to it. In fact, from
what she said, and, being just us two, of course she had to say a good
many things to me, I think she was very glad to find out that you knew
it as well as we did."

"Mary Phillips!" I cried; "where is she? Tell me this moment!"

"Look here," said Captain Guy, "you're leaving me out of this business
altogether. This is Mrs. Mary Chesters."

"Mr. Rockwell will be all right when he gets over this flurry," said
Mary to her husband.

I acknowledged the correction with a nod, for I had no time then for
words on the subject.

"Don't get yourself flustered, sir," said Mary. "You can't go to her
yet; it's too early. You must give the family time to come down and
have breakfast. I am not going to be party to a scene before breakfast
nor in the middle of a meal. I know the ways and manners of that house,
and I'll send you at exactly the right time."

I sat down. "Mary--Mrs.--"

"Don't bother about names just now," she interrupted; "I know who
you're speaking to."

"Do you believe," I continued, looking steadfastly at her, "that Bertha
Nugent loves me?"

"I don't know," she said, "that it's exactly my business to give this
information, but under the circumstances I take it on myself to say
that she most certainly does. And I tell you, and you may tell her if
you like, that I would not have