at home. He turns at the sound of my steps, and comes to meet
"May I have this, Nell?" he asks, holding up the poor little picture.
"It is mother's," I say, gently; "but I dare say she would let you have it. It was only yesterday papa said that if he found any more of his daughter's likenesses littering up the mantelpiece, he would put them all in the fire!"
He does not join in my uneasy laugh, and we stand side by side looking out at the gay dahlia beds, whose gorgeous colours will ere long be nipped and dulled by the chill night frosts. I have looked at him once, and then turned my eyes away. In all my misery at Luttrell did I ever look for one single hour like that?
"You will guess why I am here, Nell," he says. "I have come to say good-bye to you for a time."
And it was only yesterday that I was selfishly wishing he would take himself and his disappointments away out of my sight; well, to-day I have my wish.
"You will come back soon?" I ask, wistfully. "You will not stay away long?"
"I shall come back," he says quietly. "There is my father to be considered, you know."
"Promise me one thing," he says, turning his haggard face away, "that you will be married before I come back."
"Married!" I repeat. "Oh, George! and it was only yesterday that I told you—I have not thought about such a thing!"
"But Vasher will. How came you to suppose he did not love you?"
"It was all a mistake!"
"When I met you last night," he says, slowly, "I was picturing you with a heart as wild and unsatisfied as my own; I was think-
