less sound. Love alone would stead her; she could but shut her
eyes, and breathe, as if in prayer, the declaration that her love was a
sacred thing, cancelling verbal untruth.

She changed her dress, and went down to luncheon. The large dining-room
seemed to oppress her insignificance; to eat was impossible, and with
difficulty she conversed before the servants. Fortunately, Denzil was
in his best spirits; he enjoyed the wintery atmosphere, talked of
skating on the ice which had known him as a boy, laughed over an old
story about a snowball with a stone in it which had stunned him in one
of the fights between town and Grammar School.

"Pity the election can't come on just now!--we should have lively
times. A snowball is preferable to an addled egg any day. The Poltram
folks"--this was the common pronunciation of the town's name--"have a
liking for missiles at seasons of excitement."

From table, they went to the library--as yet unfurnished with
volumes--and made themselves comfortable by the fireside. Through the
windows nothing could be seen but a tempestuous whirl of flakes.
Lilian's cat, which had accompanied her in a basket, could not as yet
make itself at home on the hearthrug, and was glad of a welcome to its
mistress's lap. Denzil lit a pipe and studied the political news of the
day.

At four o'clock he waited impatiently the call of his relatives.
Lilian, unable to command her agitation, had gone into another room,
and was there counting the minutes as if each cost her a drop of
heart's blood. If this first meeting were but over! All else seemed
easy, could she but face Denzil's sister without betrayal of her shame
and dread. At length she heard wheels roll up to the door; there were
voices in the hall; Denzil came forth with loud and joyous greeting; he
led his visitors into the library. Five minutes more of anguish, and
the voices were again audible, approaching, at the door.

"Well, Lily, here is my sister and Mr. Liversedge," said Denzil. "No
very formidable persons, either of them," he added merrily, as the best
way of making apology for Lilian's too obvious tremor.

But she conquered her weakness. The man was of no account to her; upon
the woman only her eyes were fixed, for _there_ was the piercing
scrutiny, the quick divination, the merciless censure--there, if
anywhere, in one of her own sex. From men she might expect tolerance,
justice; from women only a swift choice between the bowl and the
dag