ing tone,
abandoning the argument. "I shall die if everybody is so cruel when I am
suffering so."

"I am not cruel," said Winthrop. He had seated himself on the bench near
her, he put out his hand and laid it for a moment on her bright brown
hair.

The touch seemed very grateful to Garda; instantly she moved towards
him, put her arms on his knee, and laid her head down again, in much the
same attitude she often assumed when with Margaret Harold, save that she
did not look up; her eyes remained downcast, the lashes heavy with
tears. "I cannot bear it--he has gone away," she said, letting her
sorrow come forth. "I liked him so much--so much better than I liked any
one else. And now he has gone, and I am left! And there was no
preparation--it was so sudden! Only yesterday we had that beautiful walk
on Patricio beach (don't you remember?--I called to you as we passed),
and he said nothing about going. I can never tell you how long and
dreadful the time has been since I got his note this morning."

"Don't try," said Winthrop. "Think of other things. Some of us are left,
make the best of us; we are all very fond of you, Garda." He felt a
great wrath against Lucian Spenser; but he could not show any indication
of it lest he should lose the confidence she was reposing in him, the
confidence which made her come and lay her crossed arms on his knee and
tell him all her grief. This confidence had other restrictive aspects,
it showed that she regarded him as a species (somewhat younger, perhaps)
of Mr. Moore or Dr. Kirby; Winthrop was acutely conscious that he could
not play that part in the least; it certainly behooved him, therefore,
to do the best he could with his own.

"Yes, you are all kind, I know," Garda had answered. "But Lucian was
different, Lucian _amused_ me so."

"Amused? Was that it?" said Winthrop, surprised by the word she had
chosen.

"Of course," answered Garda, in the same dejected tone. "Is there
anything better than to be amused? I am sure I don't know anything. I
was so dull here, and he made everything delightful; but now--" Her
tears rose again as the contrast came over her.

"Perhaps, now that you have called our attention to it, the rest of us
might contrive to be more amusing," said Winthrop, with a tinge of
sarcasm in his tone.

But Garda did not notice the sarcasm. "No," she answered, seriously,
"you could not. You might try; but no, you could not," she repeated,
with conviction. "For it was