ound of her footsteps died away,
he went back into the dusky room, and threw himself down on the chair
where she had sat, and abandoned himself to a delicious retrospect.

'And it is true--it is not a dream!' he said to himself when, an hour
later, he roused himself to go back to the Gray Cottage. 'Oh, thank God
that He has given me this priceless gift! If I could only be worthy of
her!' finished the young man with tender reverence, as he crossed the
courtyard and let himself in at the green door.

Mrs. Ross looked at her daughter rather anxiously that evening; she
thought Audrey was rather quiet and a trifle subdued. Geraldine and her
husband were dining at Woodcote. Audrey, who had forgotten they were
expected, was rather taken aback when she saw her sister, and made her
excuses a little hurriedly. She had been detained--all sorts of things
had detained her. She had been to the Gray Cottage and the library. She
had not walked far enough to tire herself--this being the literal fact,
as not a quarter of a mile lay between Woodcote and the Cottage. Oh no,
she was not the least tired, and she hoped Geraldine felt better.

'Much better, thank you,' returned Geraldine, with one of her keen
glances; and then she somewhat elaborately changed the subject. Audrey
was not subjected to any cross-examination; indeed, there was something
significant in Mrs. Harcourt's entire dearth of curiosity; but all the
time she was saying to herself: 'Audrey has been crying; her eyes are
quite swollen, and yet she looks cheerful. What can it mean? What has
she been doing? She has hardly had time to smooth her hair, it looks so
rough. I wonder if Percival notices anything! I am sure father does, for
he keeps looking at her,' and so on.

It was Mr. Harcourt who was Audrey's _bete noir_ that evening. He was in
one of his argumentative moods, and could not be made to understand that
his sister-in-law would have preferred silence. He was perpetually
urging her to single combat, touching her up on some supposed tender
point in the hope of getting a rally. 'I suppose Audrey, who goes in for
women's rights so warmly, will differ from me if I say so and so?' or
'We must ask Audrey what she thinks of that, my dear; she is a great
stickler for feminine prerogative;' and then he would point his chin,
and a sort of sarcastic light would come into his eyes. It was positive
enjoyment to him when Audrey rose to the bait and floundered hopelessly
into an ar