That Girl in Black; and, Bronzie

mean?"

  He turned his haggard face towards her.

  "I don't know how to tell you," he said. "I wish I need not, but as youknow so much I must. I _did_ see her, Madeline. I met her when I wasstrolling about the shrubbery over there. She was quite alone and noone near. It seemed to have happened on purpose, and--I told her all."

  "You proposed to her?"

  He nodded.

  "As--as Miss Fforde, or as--" began Mrs

  Selby.

  "As Miss Ford, of course, without the two `f's' and the `e' at the end,"he said bitterly. "I didn't know till this moment either that herfather was an earl, or, which is much worse, that she was a greatheiress."

  "And what is wrong, then?"

  "Just that she refused me--refused me with the most biting contempt--the--the bitterest scorn--no, I cannot speak of it. She thought I knew,had found out about her--and now I see that my misplaced honesty, theway I spoke, must have given colour to it. She taunted me with myinsolence at the first--good God! what an instrument of torture awoman's tongue can be! There is only one thing to do--to stopGertrude's ever telling of that letter."

  "Oh, Despard!" exclaimed Mrs Selby, and her eyes filled with tears."What a _horrid_ girl she must be! And I thought she looked so sweetand nice. She seemed so sorry when her cousin told me about you. Tellme, was that after? Oh, yes, of course, it must have been. Despard, Ibelieve she was already repenting her cruelty."

  "Hush, Madeline," said Mr Norreys sternly. "You mean it well, but--youmust promise me never to allude to all this again. You will show meMrs Englewood's letter when it comes--that you must do, and I willwrite to her. But there is no more to be said. Let to-day be betweenus as if it had never been. Promise me, dear."

  He laid his hand on her arm. Madeline turned her tearful eyes towardshim.

  "Very well," she said. "I must, I suppose. But, oh, what a dreadfulpity it all seems. You to have fallen in love with her for herself--youthat have never really cared for any one before--when you thought heronly a governess; and now for it to have all gone wrong! It would havebeen so nice and delightful."

  "A sort of Lord Burleigh business, with the characters reversed--yes,quite idyllic," said Despard sneeringly.

  "Despard, don't. It does so pain me," Mrs Selby said with realfeeling. "There is one person I am furious with," she went on in a verydifferent tone, "and that is Mrs Englewood. She had no business toplay that sort of trick."

  "Perhaps she could not help herself. You say the father--Mr Fforde ashe then was--did not wish her to be known as an heiress," said MrNorreys.

  "She might have made an exception for you," said Madeline.

  Despard's brows contracted. Mrs Selby thought it was from the pain inhis head, but it was more than that. A vision rose before him of asweet flushed girlish face, with gentle pleasure and appeal in theeyes--and of Gertrude's voice, "If you don't dance, will you talk toher? Anything to please her a little, you know."

  "I think Gertrude did all she could. I believe she is a perfectly loyaland faithful friend," he said; "but for heaven's sake, Maddie, let usdrop it for ever. I will write this evening to Gertrude myself, andthat will be the last act in the drama."

  No letter, however, was written to Mrs Englewood that evening--nor thenext day, nor for that matter during the rest of the time that sawDespard Norreys a guest at Markerslea Rectory.

  And several days passed after the morning that brought her reply to MrsSelby's letter of inquiry, before the person it chiefly concerned wasable to see it. For the pain in his head, the result of slightsunstroke in the first place, aggravated by unusual excitement, hadculminated in a sharp attack which at one time was not many degreesremoved from brain fever. The risk was tided over, however, and at notime was the young man in very serious danger. But Mrs Selby sufferedquite as much as if he had been dying. She made up her mind that hewould not recover, and as her special friends received directinformation to that effect, it is not to be wondered at that the badnews flew fast.

  It reached Laxter's Hill one morning in the week following LadyDenster's garden-party. It was the day which was to see the breaking-upof the party assembled there to meet Lord Southwold and his daughter,and it came in a letter to Edith Flores-Carter from Mrs Selby herself.

  "Oh, dear," the girl ejaculated, her usually bright, not to sayjolly-looking countenance clouding over as she spoke, "oh, dear, I'm sosorry for the Selbys--for Mrs Selby particularly. Just fancy, doesn'tit seem awful--her brother's dying."

  She glanced round the breakfast-table for sympathy: various expressionsof it reached her.

  "That fellow I found in the grounds at that place, is it?" inquired MrFforde. "I'm not surprised, he did look pretty bad, and he would walkhome, and he hadn't even a parasol."

  "Conrad, how _can_ you be so unfeeling? I perfectly detest that horridtrick of joking about everything," said in sharp, indignant tones ayoung lady seated opposite him. It was Lady Margaret. Several peoplelooked up in surprise.

  "Beginning in good time," murmured a man near the end of the table.

  "Why, do you believe in that? I don't," replied his companion in thesame low tone.

  Conrad looked across the table at his cousin in surprise.

  "Come now, Maisie," he said, "you make me feel quite shy, scolding me soin company. And I'm sure I didn't _mean_ to say anything witty at thepoor chap's expense. If I did, it was quite by mistake I assure you."

  "Anything `witty' from you would be that, I can quite believe," LadyMargaret replied, smiling a little. But the smile was a feeble andforced one. Conrad saw, if no one else did, that his cousin wasthoroughly put out, and he felt repentant, though he scarcely knew why.

  Half an hour later Lord Southwold and his daughter were talking togetherin the sitting-room, where the former had been breakfasting in invalidfashion alone.

  "I would promise to be home to-morrow, or the day after at latest,papa," Lady Margaret was saying; "Mrs Englewood will be very pleased tohave me, I know, even at the shortest notice, for last week when I wrotesaying I feared it would be impossible, she was very disappointed."

  "Very well, my dear, only don't stay with her longer than that, for youknow we have engagements," and Lord Southwold sighed a little.

  Margaret sighed too.

  "My darling," said her father, "don't look so depressed. I didn't meanto grumble."

  "Oh no, papa. It isn't you at all. I shall be glad to be at homeagain; won't you? Thank you very much for letting me go round by town."

  Mrs Englewood's drawing-room--but looking very different from the lasttime we saw it. Mrs Englewood herself, with a more anxious expressionthan usual on her pleasant face, was sitting by the open window, throughwhich, however, but little air found its way, for it was hot, almoststifling weather.

  "It is really a trial to have to come back to town before it is cooler,"she was saying to herself, as the door opened and Lady Margaret, insummer travelling gear, came in.

  "So you are really going, dear Maisie," said her hostess. "I do wishyou could have waited another day."

  "But," said Maisie, "you will let me know at once what you hear fromMrs Selby. I cannot help being unhappy, Gertrude, and, of course, whatyou have told me has made me still more self-reproachful, and--andashamed."

  She was very pale, but a sudden burning blush overspread her face as shesaid the last words.

  "I do _so_ hope he will recover," she added, trying to speak lightly,"though if he does I earnestly hope I shall never meet him again."

  "Even if I succeed in making him understand _your_ side, and showing himhow generously you regret having misjudged him?" said Mrs Englewood."I don't see that there need be any enmity between you."

  "Not _enmity_, oh no; but still less, friendship," said Maisie. "I just_trust_ we shall never meet again. Good-bye, dear Gertrude: I am soglad to have told you all. You will let me know what you hear?" and shekissed Mrs Englewood affectionately.

  "Good-bye, dear child. I
am glad you have not a long journey beforeyou. Stretham will take good care of you. You quite understand that Ican do nothing indirectly--it will only be when I see him himself that Ican tell him how sorry you have been."

  "Sorry and _ashamed_, be sure to say `ashamed,'" said Lady Margaret:"yes, of course, it can only be if--if he gets better or you see himyourself."

  Two or three days later came a letter to Lady Margaret from MrsEnglewood, inclosing one which that lady had just received from MrsSelby. Her brother, she allowed for the