replied.

"Shall I bring you up some tea and a lightly boiled egg, miss?"

"Yes; that will do nicely," I answered.

She tripped away, and I shut and locked the door. I could not bear to encounter her face, for it was full of meaning. She treated me as though I were slightly ill, and as though she were my nurse. I hated beyond words the knowledge that she shared my secret with me; but then, of course, I had no secret, for although Vernon Carbury had said those wonderful, those amazing words, I did not love him back again. How was it possible that I, a girl who respected myself, could love a man who a few weeks before had been engaged to another?

I sat in my room, leaning back in my comfortable chair; then I started up and paced the floor impatiently; then I tried very hard to make myself angry with Captain Carbury—I wanted to force myself even to hate him a little bit—but I did not succeed. I could only remember the look in his eyes, and the smile on his lips, and the thrill in his voice, when he told me how he cared for me, and I could only recall the fact that I certainly would meet him at eleven o'clock on the following morning in Hyde Park.

Morris must share my secret. It was a terrible thing to reflect about, but I could not go to Hyde Park alone; she must, therefore, accompany me. Well, that would end the whole thing. I would tell dear, kind Vernon that all my life long I would remember his good words to me, and that I would ever and ever keep him in my gallery of heroes, but that, of course—and I knew that I must speak very steadily and firmly at this juncture of my conversation—I could never love him, nor, by any possibility, marry him. I should be quite pleased to be his friend, but beyond that anything else was impossible.

There came a tap at my door. It was Morris, bearing a tray with some delicately-prepared tea, some fragrant toast, some little pats of delicious butter, on a silver tray, and a nice, fresh, brown egg, lightly boiled. Morris carried the tray in one hand; in the other she held a great basket full of the most exquisite roses I had ever seen in my life.

"For you, Miss Dalrymple," she said, and she laid the basket of roses on the dressing-table.

"Oh! oh!" I said. I adored flowers, and I buried my face now in the fragrant blooms.

"Aren't they beautiful, miss?" remarked Morris. "They must have cost a small 

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