"And he did not remember you?"

"Not in the least. I applied to him for help to get work," said Cynthia, flushing hotly at the remembrance; "and he found out that I had a voice and helped me. I went to him because I heard of his kindness to others, and I had read a story that he had written, which made me think that he would be kind. And he was kind--so kind that, without design, without any attempt to win my heart, I fell in love with him, Miss Vane, not knowing that he was your cousin, not knowing that he was plighted to another. You may not forgive me for it; I can only say that I do not think that it was my fault; and I am sure that he--he was not to blame.

You may punish me as you will"--there was a rising sob in Cynthia's throat--"but you must forgive him, and he will be true--true to you."

She covered her face and burst into passionate tears. She could control herself no longer; and at first she hardly felt the touch of Enid's hand upon her arm, or heard the words of comfort that fell from Enid's lips.

"You do not understand me," Enid was saying, when at last Cynthia could listen, "and I want to make you understand. I have misjudged you--will you forgive me? It has been very, very hard for you!"

The tears were rolling down her own cheeks as she spoke. Cynthia surrendered her hand to Enid's clasp, and listened as if she were in a dream--a pleasant beautiful dream, too good to last.

"We may perhaps be divided all our lives," said Enid, "because of things that happened when we were children--things that you cannot help any more than I. But, as far as it is possible, I want always to be your friend. Think of me as your friend--will you not, Cynthia?"

"If I may," said Cynthia.

"I shall always remember you," Enid went on. "And I do not think that it was wrong for you to love Hubert, or for him to love you--and he does love you, does he not? You need not be afraid to tell me, because I came here chiefly for one thing--to tell him that I cannot marry him, and to ask him to set me free."

"Not for my sake?" said Cynthia, trembling from head to foot.

"Not for your sake, dear, but for my own," said Enid, taking both her hands and looking straight into Cynthia's tear-filled eyes; "because I have been as unfaithful to him as I think that he has been to me--and I have given my heart away to some one else. I am going to marry Mr.

Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield."

The two girls were standing thus, hand-in-hand, the eyes of each fixed on the other's face, when the door of communication with the next room was suddenly opened. Hubert stood there, leaning on Jenkins' arm--for he was still exceedingly weak--and the start of surprise which he gave when he saw Enid and Cynthia was uncontrollable. Cynthia dropped Enid's hand and turned away; there was something in her face which she could not bear to have seen. Enid advanced towards her cousin, and held out her hand in quiet friendly greeting.

CHAPTER XLVI.

"I have come to answer your note myself," said Enid to her cousin, as he made his way with faltering steps into the room. "I hope that you are better now?"

Hubert had seldom felt himself in a more uncomfortable position. What did this mean? Had Enid and Cynthia been comparing notes? He looked from one to the other in helpless dismay, and scarcely answered Enid's inquiry as he sank into the chair that Tom Jenkins wheeled forward for him. Cynthia had turned her back upon the company, and was again putting on her little black hat. It was plain that both she and Enid had been crying.

"You must have been very ill," said Enid, regarding him with compassionate eyes.

"For a few days I believe that I was rather bad; but I am all right now," said Hubert, taking refuge in conventionalities. "My kind nurse has introduced herself to you perhaps?"

"We introduced ourselves to each other," said Enid; and then she walked away from him to Cynthia. "Will you leave us together for a little time?" she murmured. "You do not mind? I shall not be long; but I want to make Hubert understand what I said to you just now."

She had drawn Cynthia outside the door as she spoke. The two looked at each other again gravely, and yet with a kind of pleasure and satisfaction--then they kissed each other. Cynthia ran down-stairs; Enid re-entered the drawing-room and closed the door. Mrs. Jenkins had appeared on the scene with a tea-tray, which she arranged on a small table at Hubert's elbow; and, till she had gone, Enid did not speak. She sat down in a low arm-chair and observed her cousin steadily. He was certainly very much changed. His hair was turning gray on the temples; his eyes were hollow and haggard; he was exceedingly thin. There was an air of gloom and depression about him which Enid had not noticed before.

She gave him a cup of tea and took one herself before she would let him speak of anything but commonplaces. He did not seem inclined to talk; but, when she took away his cup, he laid a detaining hand on her arm, and said--

"It is very good of you to come."

"I would have come before if I had been able--and if you had wanted me."

"You are always welcome," said Hubert. But his tone was languid, and his eyes did not meet her own.

"Hubert, are you well enough to have a little talk with me--a sort of business conversation?"

"Certainly, Enid. I am really quite well now." There was still no alacrity in his reply.

"And you wrote to me, saying that I had not written----"

"And you had not--for a month or more," said he, smiling a little more frankly into her face. "Was I wrong?"

"Did you expect me to write?"

"Yes, certainly. Why not?"

"You did not think that I should believe what your sister has been saying?" Enid asked.

"Flossy? What does she say?"

"Miss West has not told you? Of course she knows; for she was here when Mrs. Vane and the General called."

"I suppose that everything disagreeable has been kept from me," said Hubert, after little pause. "I know that there is a pile of letters which my nurses will not let me read. Tell me what has been going on."

"I am sorry to have to say disagreeable things to you," said Enid softly. "It will not make you ill again, will it, Hubert?"

"Out with it! It won't matter!" said Hubert, in a rather impatient tone.

"What do you want to say?"

"Nothing to make your pulse throb and your face flush in that manner,"

she answered, sitting down beside him and laying her cool fingers on his wrist. "Dear Hubert, I have no bad news for you, though I may say one or two things that sound disagreeable. Please don't excite yourself in this way, or I must go away."

"No, no--you must speak out now; it will do me no harm. What is it?"

"Flossy saw Miss West here. She was displeased by her presence. Uncle Richard believed every word that his wife said, and was led to think that Cynthia West was a wicked designing creature who wanted to marry you. You can imagine what Florence would say and what uncle Richard would believe."

"I can indeed! And did she come here and say this to Cynthia?"

"She said a great deal, I believe. She tried to make Cynthia go away--Uncle Richard told me; and--shall I tell you everything, Hubert?--he said that you would not be 'led astray' for very long, and that I should find that you were true--true to me."

"Enid, did you believe him?"

"I don't know exactly what I believed. It seemed to me that Cynthia West had done a very noble thing in coming to nurse you when you were ill."

Hubert turned and seized her hands.

"Heaven bless you for saying that, Enid! She saved my life."

"And we should be grateful to her, and not malign her, should we not?

But it is only right, Hubert, that I should know the truth."

"The truth? What is there to know?" said Hubert, relinquishing her hands and frowning heavily. "Flossy is absurdly wrong and mistaken, and Cynthia West is one of the noblest women in the world--that is all that I have to say. When I am a little stronger, Enid, it will be better if you will consent to marry me at once; then we can go away together and spend the winter in Egypt or Algiers."