before I had known her twenty-four hours, to fall
hopelessly in love with her myself, you will admit that I had something
to reproach myself with."

She was still silent, rather pale and very thoughtful, and she seemed to
breathe more quickly than usual.

"Of course," I continued, "you may say that it was my own look-out, that
I had only to keep my own counsel, and no one would be any the worse.
But there's the mischief of it. How can a man who is thinking of a woman
morning, noon and night; whose heart leaps at the sound of her coming,
whose existence is a blank when she is away from him--a blank which he
tries to fill by recalling, again and again, all that she has said and
the tones of her voice, and the look that was in her eyes when she
spoke--how can he help letting her see, sooner or later, that he cares
for her? And if he does, when he has no right to, there is an end of
duty and chivalry and even common honesty."

"Yes, I understand now," said Juliet softly. "Is this the way?" She
tripped up the steps leading to Fountain Court and I followed
cheerfully. Of course it was not the way, and we both knew it, but the
place was silent and peaceful, and the plane-trees cast a pleasant shade
on the gravelled court. I glanced at her as we walked slowly towards the
fountain. The roses were mantling in her cheeks now and her eyes were
cast down, but when she lifted them to me for an instant, I saw that
they were shining and moist.

"Did you never guess?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied in a low voice, "I guessed; but--but then," she
added shyly, "I thought I had guessed wrong."

We walked on for some little time without speaking again until we came
to the further side of the fountain, where we stood listening to the
quiet trickle of the water, and watching the sparrows as they took their
bath on the rim of the basin. A little way off another group of sparrows
had gathered with greedy joy around some fragments of bread that had
been scattered abroad by the benevolent Templars, and hard by a more
sentimentally-minded pigeon, unmindful of the crumbs and the marauding
sparrows, puffed out his breast and strutted and curtsied before his
mate with endearing gurgles.

Juliet had rested her hand on one of the little posts that support the
chain by which the fountain is enclosed and I had laid my hand on hers.
Presently she turned her hand over so that mine lay in its palm; and so
we were standing hand-in-hand when an elderly