ddle! You've told
him I was rich--the very thing I didn't mean him to know till--till he
couldn't help himself. You've spoilt everything! And now he's gone--and
he'll never come back. Oh, I hope you will suffer for this some day.
You will, if there's any justice in the world!"

He looked as though he suffered for it even now, but when he spoke his
voice was equable.

"I am extremely sorry," he said, "but after all, there's very little
harm done. You should have warned me that you meant to play a comedy,
and I would have taken any part you assigned me. However, you've
succeeded. He evidently 'loves you for yourself alone.' Write and tell
him to come back: he'll come."

"How little you know him," she said, "after all these years! Even I know
him better than that. That was why I pretended not to be rich. Directly
I knew about the money I made up my mind to find him and try if I could
make him care. I know it sounds horrid; I don't mind, it's true. And I
had done it; and then you came. Oh, I hope I shall never see you again!
I will never speak to you again! No, I don't mean that----" She hid her
face in her hands.

"Rosamund, try to forgive me. I didn't know, I couldn't know. I will
bring him back to you--I swear it! Only trust me."

"You can't," she said; "it's all over."

"Let me tell you something. If you hadn't had this money--but if you
hadn't had this money I should never have seen you. But I have thought
of nothing but you ever since that day you came to the Temple. I don't
tell you this to annoy you, only to show you that I would do anything in
the world to prevent you from being unhappy. Forgive me, dear! Oh,
forgive me!"

"It's no good," she said; but she gave him her hand. When Constance
Grant came back with the coffee, she found Mr Guillemot alone looking
out of the window at the sunflowers and the hollyhocks.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"I've made a fool of myself," he said, forgetting, as he looked at her
kind eyes, that three hours ago she was only a name to him.

"Could I do anything?"

"You're her friend," he said. "Miss Grant, I'm going down to the sea, if
you could come down with me and let me talk--but I've no right to bother
you."

"I'll come," said Constance. "I'll come by-and-by when I've cleared
lunch away. It's no bother. As you say, I'm her friend."

III

Rosamund stayed on at the little house behind the sea-wall, and she
wrote letters, long and many, which accumulated o