t Dolly,
with her keen feminine intuitions, at once detected him. "It's
more than that," she said, all regret, leaning forward with a
quick-gathering moisture in her eye, for she really loved him.
"It's more than that, Walter. You've heard something somewhere
that you don't want to tell me."

Walter's color changed at once. He was a man, and therefore but
a poor dissembler. "Well, nothing very much," he admitted,
awkwardly.

Dolly, drew back like one stung; her heart beat fast. "What have
you heard?" she cried trembling; "Walter, Walter, I love you! You
must keep nothing back. Tell me NOW what it is. I can bear to
hear it."

The young man hesitated. "Only something my step-father heard from
a friend last night," he replied, floundering deeper and deeper.
"Nothing at all about you, darling. Only--well--about your
family."

Dolly's face was red as fire. A lump rose in her throat; she
started in horror. Then he had found out the Truth. He had probed
the Mystery.

"Something that makes you sorry you promised to marry me?" she
cried aloud in her despair. Heaven faded before her eyes. What
evil trick could mamma have played her?

As she stood there that moment--proud, crimson, breathless--Walter
Brydges would have married her if her father had been a tinker and
her mother a gipsy girl. He drew her toward him tenderly. "No,
darling," he cried, kissing her, for he was a chivalrous young man,
as he understood chivalry; and to him it was indeed a most cruel
blow to learn that his future wife was born out of lawful wedlock.
"I'm proud of you; I love you. I worship the very ground your
sweet feet tread on. Nothing on earth could make me anything but
grateful and thankful for the gift of your love you're gracious
enough to bestow on me."

But Dolly drew back in alarm. Not on such terms as those. She,
too, had her pride; she, too, had her chivalry. "No, no," she
cried, shrinking. "I don't know what it is. I don't know what it
means. But till I've gone home to London and asked about it from
mother,--oh, Walter, we two are no longer engaged. You are free
from your promise."

She said it proudly; she said it bravely. She said it with womanly
grace and dignity. Something of Herminia shone out in her that
moment. No man should ever take her--to the grandest home--unless
he took her at her full worth, pleased and proud to win her.

Walter soothed and coaxed; but Dolores stood firm. Like a rock i