ng so, but all this is very sad for me. If in the end
circumstances should alter, as I pray heaven that they may, or if Mr.
Cossey's previous entanglement should prove too much for him, will you
marry me, Ida?"

She thought for a moment, and then rising from the seat, gave him her
hand and said simply:

"Yes, I /will/ marry you."

He made no answer, but lifting her hand touched it gently with his
lips.

"Meanwhile," she went on, "I have your promise, and I am sure that you
will not betray it, come what may."

"No," he said, "I will not betray it."

And they went in.

In the drawing-room they found the Squire puzzling over a sheet of
paper, on which were scrawled some of George's accounts, in figures
which at first sight bore about as much resemblance to Egyptian
hieroglyphics as they did to those in use to-day.

"Hullo!" he said, "there you are. Where on earth have you been?"

"We have been looking at the Castle in the moonlight," answered Ida
coolly. "It is beautiful."

"Um--ah," said the Squire, dryly, "I have no doubt that it is
beautiful, but isn't the grass rather damp? Well, look here," and he
held up the sheet of hieroglyphics, "perhaps you can add this up, Ida,
for it is more than I can. George has bought stock and all sorts of
things at the sale to-day and here is his account; three hundred and
seventy-two pounds he makes it, but I make it four hundred and twenty,
and hang me if I can find out which is right. It is most important
that these accounts should be kept straight. Most important, and I
cannot get this stupid fellow to do it."

Ida took the sheet of paper and added it up, with the result that she
discovered both totals to be wrong. Harold, watching her, wondered at
the nerve of a woman who, after going through such a scene as that
which had just occurred, could deliberately add up long rows of badly-
written figures.

And this money which her father was expending so cheerfully was part
of the price for which she had bound herself.

With a sigh he rose, said good-night, and went home with feelings
almost too mixed to admit of accurate description. He had taken a
great step in his life, and to a certain extent that step had
succeeded. He had not altogether built his hopes upon sand, for from
what Ida had said, and still more from what she had tacitly admitted,
it was necessarily clear to him that she did more or less regard him
as a man would wish to be regarded by a woman whom he dearl