danced a little. I danced more gaily than the
rest, for my heart was unusually sore. Grace
Tyrrell had told me that day that she purposed
leaving the hall next week, and had pressed me
to go with her to London. I thought I had
better go, yet I had refused her. I knew I
must leave Hillsbro', yet I shrank from the
great effort of tearing myself away. Here I
had been loved and happy; the trees and the
moors knew it; even the strange faces of the
country people passing on the roads had seemed
to be in my secret, and had played their simple
part in my dream. I felt that, once gone, I
could never return, and I must first have an
explanation with John, and put an end to our
engagement. Yet how to seek him for such a
purpose? I had kept at such a distance from
him lately that it seemed impossible. I felt
that he would be relieved by my absence, and
glad of his release, but my own woe pressed
upon me. I feared to make a fool of myself if
he was kind as of old, when we said good-bye.

So I was dancing with the rest, and Captain
Tyrrell was my partner. We were very merry.
Grace was playing for us, and looked approvingly
over her shoulders. John had been with us
at dinner, but I had lost sight of him, and as I
did not see Rachel either, my fancy saw them
walking in the moonlight without. For it was
a warm evening, the windows were open, the
stars bright, and people went in and out at
their pleasure. The flowers smelt sweetly in
the dew, and the nightingales were singing.
There was a game of hide and seek on the
lawn, and when the shrieks and laughter were
subsiding, some one began to sing within.
Rachel, entertaining the old ladies and gentlemen,
and the rovers flocked round the windows
to listen. I had sauntered with Captain Tyrrell
into a grove to hear a nightingale, and I was
weary to death of his company. He was trying
to make me promise to go to London. "Oh,
let it rest," I said, "we will talk about it
to-morrow. Let us be merry to-night. We will
play hide and seek again!" and I darted
suddenly among the trees, and lay close behind a
great oak. My squire lost me; I heard him go
past plunging through the underwood, and
swearing a little. I lay still till he had given
up the search and gone towards the house, and
then, like the silly lamb in the spelling-book
story, I came forth in the moonlight, and if I
did not skip and frisk about with delight, I at
least enjoyed myself after the only dismal fashion
I could command. Captain Tyrrell was to me,
in these days, a veritable old man of the sea.
I could not get rid of him, and sometimes I
thought in my most despairing moods that it
was going to be my lot to carry him on my
shoulders for the remainder of my life.

I was walking slowly, musing ruefully, when
I saw a figure advancing to meet me on the
path. I saw at a glance that it was John
Hollingford. The time had been when I would
have flown gladly to meet him, linked my arm
in his, and seized the opportunity for one of our
old talks about pleasant fancies. But this was
not the friend I had known, nor was I any
longer the simple girl who could open her heart
to trust, and delight in shining dreams. The
pleasant fancies had been proved cheats, the
stars had fallen. I no longer looked up at the
sky, but down to the ground. For a moment I
shrank back, and would have hidden, but then
I thought bitterly, what did it matter?
Unpleasant words must be said between us, sooner
or later. A very few would suffice. Better
they were said at once.

"Margery," said John, "people are looking
for you, and talking about you. I have come
to fetch you to the house. To tell the truth I
am glad of the opportunity of saying something
which has been long upon my mind. Will you
bear with me a few minutes?"

"Yes," I said, "certainly. As long as he
pleased." And I tossed little pieces of twig
over my shoulder, and prepared myself to listen.
Oh, my dears, how defiant women will be, just
for the fear of being pitied.

"You must know very well," he continued,
"what I am going to say. I have a right to
ask you for an explanation of your conduct for
the past few weeks. People are coupling your
name with that of Captain Tyrrell, and with
good reason. You are so changed that I
scarcely see a trace of the Margery I once
knew. Child! if you repent of the promise
you have given me, tell me now and I will set
you free. I remember the circumstances under
which that promise was given. You, perhaps,
exaggerated your own feelings; you have since
renewed your acquaintance with people and
ways of life that suit you best. I will try not
to blame you. Speak out at once, and do not
think of me."

The truthful ring of feeling and reproach in
his voice startled my ears, and set my heart
struggling for liberty to give an honest response
to this appeal. A few simple words would have
been enough, but the recollection of all that I
knew came back too quickly. The conviction of
his insincerity and injustice suddenly bewildered
me with anger, keen in proportion to the
desolation I had suffered.

"Sir," said I (we said "sir " for politeness
in those days, my dear), loftily, coldly, and in
utter despair, "I will take you at your word.
Let the promise between us be broken from
this moment!"

He heaved a great sigh of relief, I thought,
and being near the house we parted with much
politeness. Thus we put an end to our engagement.
Holy and indestructible I had believed
it to be; but then I was an ignorant little fool.
People shake hands and say good-bye every day,
and never dream of being so mad as to spoil
to-morrow with tears. As for me I did not wait
for to-morrow. That night was piteous with
the rain of my grief. But Grace was at hand
to comfort, to counsel, to instruct, which she
did with her own peculiar figures of speech.

"You are a brave little thing!" she said. "I
am glad you had spirit to act on the first notice