e; "you know I am delighted to be detained so
pleasantly. Won't you come farther under the trees?"

"No, I must be home, thank you. I don't want to be late."

But just then the rain came down in such a deluge that she had nothing
for it but to give in and stand up for shelter.

"It seems ages since we met," began Scarfe.

Raby had a vivid enough recollection of that evening in the
conservatory, but did not contradict him.

"I called at Clarges Street last month, hoping to see you, but you were
away."

"Yes, we were abroad--all but Percy."

"I saw Percy. Poor fellow, he did not seem himself at all. Miss
Atherton, you must not blame me if I remind you of something we were
talking about when I last saw you--"

"Please don't, Mr Scarfe; I have no wish to refer to it."

"But I must. Do you know, Raby, I have thought of no one but you ever
since?"

Raby said nothing, and wished the rain would stop.

"Is it too much to ask whether, perhaps once or twice, you have thought
of me?"

Raby began to get angry. Was it not cowardly to get her here at a
disadvantage and begin to talk to her about what she had no wish to
hear?

"Yes--I have thought once or twice of you," she said.

"How good of you, Raby!" said he, trying to take her hand. "May I hope
it was with something more than indifference--with love?"

"Certainly not," said she, drawing back her hand, and, in spite of the
rain, starting to walk.

Bitterly crestfallen, he walked at her side and held his umbrella over
her.

"You are harsh with me," said he reproachfully.

"I am sorry. You should not have provoked me. I asked you not to talk
about it."

"I am afraid, Miss Atherton," said he, "some one has been prejudicing
you against me. Percy, perhaps, has been talking about me."

Raby walked on without replying.

"Percy is very angry with me for doing what it was only my duty to do as
his friend--and yours. He misunderstands me, and, I fear, so do you."

"I do not misunderstand you at all," said Raby boldly.

"But I am afraid you do not thank me."

"No. I have nothing to thank you for."

"I did my duty, at any rate. I stated the truth, and nothing more, and
should have been wrong to allow things to go on without at least trying,
for the sake of those for whom I cared, and still care, Miss Atherton,
to set them right. Do I understand you blame me for that?"

"Mr Scarfe, you have done a cruel thing to one who never did you harm--
and