at depends," said Leam. "What is good for one is not good for all."

"But safety is always good," returned Mr. Gryce, meaning to fall back
on the safety of love and happiness if he had made a bad shot by his
aim at safety from the detection of crime.

A scared look passed over Leam's face. It was a look that meant a cry.
She pressed her hands together and involuntarily drew back a step,
cowering. She felt as if some strong hand had struck her a heavy blow,
and that it had made her reel. "You are cruel to say that. Why should
I marry--?" She began in a defiant tone, and then she stopped. Was she
not betraying herself for the very fear of discovery?

"Alick Corfield, for instance?" put in Mr. Gryce, at a venture. "He
may serve for an illustration as well as any one else," he added with
a soothing kind of indifference, troubled by the intense terror that
came for one moment into her face. How soon he had startled her
from her poor little hiding-place! How easy the assumption of
extraordinary, powers based on the clever use of ordinary faculties!
Your true magician is, after all, only your quiet and accurate
observer. "You are not vexed that I speak of him when I want a
name?" he asked, after a pause to give Leam time to regain her
self-possession, to readjust the screen, to fasten once more the mask.

"Why should I be vexed?" she said in a low voice.

"He is not disagreeable to you?"

"No, he is my friend," she answered.

"And a good fellow," said Mr. Gryce, lisping over a maple twig. "Don't
you think so?"

"He is good," responded Leam like a dry and lifeless echo.

"An admirable son."

"Yes."

"A devoted friend--a friend to be trusted to the death; a man without
his price, incorruptible, with whom a secret, say, would be as safe as
if buried in the grave. He would not give it even to the wind, and no
reed on his land would whisper 'Midas has ass's ears.'"

"He is good," she repeated with a shiver. Yet the sun was shining and
the spring-tide air was sweet and warm.

"And he would make the most faithful and indulgent husband."

There was no answer.

"Do you not agree with me?"

"How should I know?" she answered; and she said no more, though she
still shivered.

"Be sure of it--take my word for it," he said again, earnestly.

"It is nothing to me. And I hate your word _indulgent_!" cried Leam
with a flash of her mother's fierceness.

Mr. Gryce, still watching her, smiled softly to himself. His love of