olton? Maurice, think of it. Promise me you will
think of it. Maurice, don't go."

She runs to him, lays her hand on his arm, and tries to hold him.

"I must." He lifts her hand from his arm, presses it, and drops it
deliberately. "My dear mother, I can't; I can't, really," says he.

She stands quite still. As he reaches the door, he looks back. She
is evidently crying. A pang shoots through his heart. But it is all
so utterly impossible. To marry that absurd child! It is out of
question. Still, her tears trouble him. He can see her crying as he
crosses the hall, and then her words begin to trouble him even more.
What was it she had said about Marian? It was a hint, a very broad
one. It meant that Marian might love him if he were a poor man, but
could love him much more if he were a rich one. As a fact, she would
marry him if he had money, but not if he were penniless. After all,
why not? She, Marian, had often said all that to him, or at least
some of it. But that other word, of her marrying some other man
should he appear----

CHAPTER IV.

HOW THE HEART OF MAURICE GREW HOT WITHIN HIM, AND HOW HE PUT THE
QUESTION TO THE TOUCH, AND HOW HE NEITHER LOST NOR WON.

Mrs. Bethune, sauntering slowly between the bushes laden with
exquisite blooms, all white and red and yellow, looks up as he
approaches her with a charming start.

"You!" she says, smiling, and holding out her hand--a large hand but
beautiful. "It is my favourite spot. But that _you_ should have come
here too!"

"You knew I should come!" returns he gravely. Something in her
charming air of surprise jars upon him at this moment. Why should
she pretend?--and to him!

"I knew?"

"You told me you were coming here."

"Ah, what a lovely answer!" says she, with a glance from under her
long lashes, that--whatever her answer may be--certainly _is_
lovely.

Rylton regards her moodily. If she really loved him, would she
coquet with him like this--would she so pretend? All in a second, as
he stands looking at her, the whole of the past year comes back to
him. A strange year, fraught with gladness and deep pain--with fears
and joys intense! What had it all meant? If anything, it had meant
devotion to her--to his cousin, who, widowed, all but penniless, had
been flung by the adverse winds of Fate into his home.

She was the only daughter of Lady Rylton's only brother, and the
latter had taken her in, and in a measure adopted her. It was a
strange ste