to Gladys, keeping your own counsel and telling no one of your
intention.'

I saw Max stare at me as though he thought I had lost my senses, and then
a sudden light came into his eyes.

'You will go down to Bournemouth,' I went on, 'and the Maberleys will be
glad to see you; you are an old friend, and they will ask no questions
and think no ill. You will have no difficulty in seeing Gladys alone.
Speak to her promptly and frankly; ask her what her behaviour has meant,
and if she really prefers her cousin. If you must know the worst, it will
be better to know it now, and from her own lips. Do go, Max, like a brave
man.' But even before I finished speaking, the light had died out of his
eyes, and his manner had resumed its old sadness.

'No, Ursula; you mean well, but it will not do. I cannot persecute her
in this way. Captain Hamilton is coming home in July: she has given him
permission to come. I will wait for that. I shall very soon see how
matters stand between them. I shall only need to see her with him;
probably I shall not speak to her at all.'

I could have wrung my hands over Max's obstinacy and quixotism: he
carried his generosity to a fault. Few men would be so patient and
forbearing.

How could he stand aside hopelessly and let another man win his prize?
But perhaps he considered it was already won. I pleaded with him again.
I even went so far as to contradict my theory about a third person, and
offered to sound Gladys about her cousin; but he silenced me
peremptorily.

'Promise me that you will do nothing of the kind; give me your word of
honour, Ursula, that you will respect my confidence. Good heavens! if I
thought that you would betray me, and to her of all people, I should
indeed bitterly repent my trust in you.'

Max was so agitated, he spoke so angrily, that I hastened to soothe him.
Of course his confidence was sacred; how could he think such things of
me? I was not like Miss--. But here I pulled myself up. He might be as
blind and foolish as he liked, he might commit suicide and I would not
hinder him; he should enjoy his misery in his own way. And more to that
effect.

'Now I have made you cross, little she-bear,' he said, laying his hand
on mine, 'and you have been so patient and have given my woes such a
comfortable hearing. You frightened me for a moment, for I know how quick
and impulsive you can be. No, no, my dear. I hold you to your own words:
a third person must not be mixed up in a