o his mother.

Humility looked distressed, uncomfortable. Honoria ignored the snub.
"I am starting for Carwithiel to-day," she said, "for a week's visit,
and thought I would look in--after hearing what the postman told me--
and pay my compliments."

She talked for a minute or two on matters of no importance, asked
after old Mrs. Venning's health, and left, turning at the door and
giving Humility a cheerful little nod.

"Taffy, you ought not to have spoken so." Humility's eyes were
tearful.

Taffy's conscience was already accusing him. He snatched up his cap
and ran out.

"Miss Honoria!"

She did not turn.

"Miss Honoria--I am sorry!" He overtook her, but she turned her face
away. "Forgive me!"

She halted, and after a moment looked him in the eyes. He saw then
that she had been crying.

"The first time I came to see you he whipped me," she said slowly.

"I am sorry; indeed I am."

"Taffy--"

"Miss Honoria."

"I said--Taffy."

"Honoria, then."

"Do you know what it is to feel lonely here?"

Taffy remembered the afternoons when he had roamed the sand-hills
longing for George's company. "Why, yes," said he; "it used to be
always lonely."

"I think we have been the loneliest children in the whole world--you
and I and George--only George didn't feel it the same way. And now
it's coming to an end with you. You are going up to Oxford, and soon
you will have heaps of friends. Can you not understand? Suppose
there were two prisoners, alone in the same prison, but shut in
different cells, and one heard that the other's release had come.
He would feel--would he not?--that now he was going to be lonelier
than ever. And yet he might be glad of the other's liberty, and if
the chance were given, might be the happier for shaking hands with
the other and wishing him joy."

Taffy had never heard her speak at all like this.

"But you are going to Carwithiel, and George is famous company."

"I am going over to Carwithiel because I hate Tredinnis. I hate
every stone of it, and will sell the place as soon as ever I come of
age. And George is the best fellow in the world. Some day I shall
marry him (oh, it is all arranged!), and we shall live at Carwithiel
and be quite happy; for I like him, and he likes people to be happy.
And we shall talk of you. Being out of the world ourselves, we shall
talk of you, and the great things you are going to do, and the great
things you are doing. We shall say to