le wood.
She wished to go quickly, but was afraid, if she did so, of overtaking
Lord Dymchurch. In her, too, the self-approving mind was active; she
applauded herself for having given the preference to love over
ambition. With the choice of becoming a peeress, she had bestowed her
beauty, intellect, wealth upon a man who had nothing to offer but his
hopes. Was not this nobler than any nobility of rank? The
sentimentality of a hundred novels surged within her; verses of
Browning chanted in her brain. "Love is best!" She walked a heroine of
passion. All obstacles would fall before her burning resolve. This was
living in high romance!

She passed from among the trees into the open park and there before her
stood the man she least wished to see. He had evidently been waiting;
he began to move towards her. A score of more or less ingenious lies
rose to her tongue, instinctively; but she remembered that deceit was
not called for. Lord Dymchurch had raised his hat. He looked very
grave, but not at all ill-tempered. May did not offer her hand. After
the "good-morning," he walked beside her, and at once began to speak.

"I find I must leave Rivenoak, Miss Tomalin." His voice was low,
gentle, not unkind.

"Must you indeed, Lord Dymchurch?"

"I'm afraid I must," he answered quietly.

"I am _so_ sorry. But you will be able to see Lady Ogram?"

"I fear not. I wish to leave almost at once."

They were drawing near to the garden. Dymchurch paused, glanced at his
companion with sad eyes, and, his look cast down, again spoke.

"Miss Tomalin, I came here wishing to ask you to be my wife. Only a
foolish shyness prevented me from doing so yesterday. This morning, I
know that it would be too late. Pray forgive me for speaking of the
matter at all. I feel obliged to explain myself. Perhaps I had better
make the explanation complete by saying that I saw you go through the
garden, and followed in the same direction, hoping for an opportunity
of speaking with you alone."

May felt that a man in this position could not well have conducted
himself more kindly and delicately. No hint in look or voice that he
thought her behaviour extraordinary; he had been defeated by a rival,
that was all; his tone begged excuse for unwilling intrusion upon her
privacy. But for the hopelessly compromising moment at which he had
arrived, probably he would have given her all benefit of the doubt, and
in one way or another, would still have prosecuted his