man so tormenting?"

"Tormenting? No, so discerning if you will, or else so----"

"Adorable! You can't find fault with _that_ at all events."

"And therefore my mission is at an end! Good-bye, again."

"Good-bye." He is holding her hand as though he never means to let her
have it again. "That rose," says he, pointing to the flower that had
kissed her lips so often. "It is nothing to you, you can pick yourself
another, give it to me."

"I can pick you another too, a nice fresh one," says she. "Here," moving
towards a glowing bush; "here is a bud worth having."

"Not that one," hastily. "Not one this garden, or any other garden
holds, save the one in your hand. It is the only one in the world of
roses worth having."

"I hate to give a faded gift," says she, looking at the rose she holds
with apparent disfavor.

"Then I shall take it," returns he, with decision. He opens her pretty
pink palm, releases the dying rosebud from it and places it triumphantly
in his coat.

"You haven't got any manners," says she, but she laughs again as she
says it.

"Except bad ones you should add."

"Yes, I forgot that. A point lost. Good-bye now, good-bye indeed."

She waves her hand lightly to him and calling to the children runs
towards the house. It seems as if she has carried all the beauty and
brightness and sweetness of the day with her.

As Dysart turns back again, the afternoon appears grey and gloomy.

CHAPTER V.

"Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go."

"Well, Barbara, can I go?"

"I don't know"--doubtfully. There is a cloud on Mrs. Monkton's brow, she
is staring out of the window instead of into her sister's face, and she
is evidently a little distressed or uncertain. "You have been there so
lately, and----"

"You want to say something," says the younger sister, seating herself on
the sofa, and drawing Mrs. Monkton down beside her. "Why don't you do
it?"

"You can't want to go so very much, can you now?" asks the latter,
anxiously, almost entreatingly.

"It is I who don't know this time!" says Joyce, with a smile. "And
yet----"

"It seems only like yesterday that you came back after spending a month
there."

"A yesterday that dates from six weeks ago," a little reproachfully.

"I know. You like being there. It is a very amusing house to be at. I
don't blame you in any way. Lord and Lady Baltimore are both charming in
their ways, and very kind, and yet----"

"There, don't stop; you are com