but I could at least give myself the satisfaction of watching for you."
"Thank you." She held out her hand. And then he saw that her eyes were wet, and that there was a great tear-drop on her cheek.
"Elsie!" he exclaimed. "You have been crying?"
"Yes," she cried recklessly, "and do you know why—because I, too, have something in me that is fierce and untamable, and because I am not like you. I can find no outlet in my life."
She darted from him and ran into the house. He walked slowly back to Fermoy's through the paddock.
CHAPTER XVI.
"NINON, NINON, QUE JAIS TU DE LA VIE."
Elsie wore at the Garfits' the white dress that Blake had seen her stitching. She had copied it from an old print. It hung in soft folds to her feet, and she had a little frilled fichu of muslin knotted at her breast, and where it was knotted there was a big bunch of Parma violets, and she carried a large bouquet of violets in her hand. The violets had been sent to the cottage that morning. Elsie knew who had sent them, and perhaps the sending of the violets had something to do with her radiance. Everyone said that Elsie had never looked so beautiful.
The Garfits had a large verandahed house some little way out of town on the North Side. They always gave pleasant parties. Sir James was a jovial red-faced person, who on these occasions dropped the cares of state as though they had been a garment. Rose was always amiable and ladylike, and Lady Garfit was at her best in her own house.
Sir James was, however, on this evening more preoccupied than was usual with him. There had been another stormy debate that day. Mr. Torbolton, leader of the Oppo-
