a matter of fact she has a young man of her own. I always
knew he wanted me to marry Eileen. As though I ever could have married
any one but Stella!"

She did not at all resent her husband's laying the burden of comfort
upon her. He had always left Terry to her.

She looked at his young angry face. He was ramping up and down the
little boudoir like an animal in a cage. He was adorably young and she
loved him. What was she to say?

"I'm not a child," Terry went on. "Things can't stand like this, as
Father expects them to, apparently. One doesn't throw over a girl one
loves better than life for no reason at all, and Father will give none
except that the marriage is unsuitable. How can it be unsuitable
except that I am so unworthy of her? Mother"--he stopped suddenly in
his pacing to and fro--"you can do anything with Father. Make him see
sense. You know my whole happiness depends on this--and hers. It has
gone deep with me."

Suddenly he turned away, and putting his two arms on the mantelpiece he
laid down his face upon them.

She went to him and stroked his hair softly. He looked up at her and
his eyes were miserable, and so young.

"Darling," he said, "you have always been good to me. Can't you talk
Father over? I am going away to-morrow. If he persists in this
insanity I shall chuck my commission, go off to Canada and try to make
a home there for Stella."

"Terry!" The name was wrung from her like a cry.

"You see I couldn't stay, darling, hanging round in the hope that
Father might change his mind. I couldn't stick being engaged and not
engaged. I should hate to leave you, of course, darling, but then you
wouldn't come. You'd never leave Father. He says his decision is
final, but he gives me no reason for it. It is the maddest way of
treating a man I ever heard. What does he mean by it?"

"He was always a very indulgent father, Terry. If he refuses you a
thing you desire so much he must have a good reason."

She felt the feebleness of her plea even before he turned and looked at
her.

"That is really foolish, Mother," he said. "I beg your pardon if I am
rude. I'm not a child, to be kept in the dark and told that my elders
know what is best for me. Do you know his reasons?"

She had been dreading the question, yet she was unprepared with an
answer.

"I see you do," he went on grimly. "But of course you won't tell me,
if Father will not, though he sent me to you."

The po