He spoke hardily, determinedly. He had made up his mind to carry out his sacrifice, if Enid desired it, at any cost. He had, as the General would have said, returned to his allegiance.

Enid looked at him with a keenness, an intentness, which struck him as remarkable.

"Do you want me to marry you?" she said.

"Of course I do! Why else should I have asked you?" he returned, with all a sick man's petulance. "I want to get the ceremony over as soon as possible--as soon as you will consent. When shall it be!"

"One moment, Hubert. Tell me first what I want to know. Is Flossy right in saying that Cynthia loves you?"

"You may be quite sure that Flossy is infernally wrong in anything she says!" he answered.

He had never spoken so roughly to her before. She drew back for a second, and he immediately apologised.

"I beg your pardon, Enid; I am sorry to be so irritable. Think of me as a sick man still, and forgive me. But Flossy knows nothing of the matter."

"Not even that Cynthia cares for you?"

A deep flush rose to his face.

"You should not ask me. It is the last thing that I can tell," he said, with the same sharpness of tone.

"Then tell me another thing, Hubert. Do you not care for her?"

"Yes--a great deal. She has been a kind friend--an excellent nurse--and I am grateful to her. Enid, I do not like to think that you believe me to be untrue to you."

She took his hand in hers and kissed it--a movement which discomposed him exceedingly.

"I did not think for one moment that you would desert me, Hubert, if I wanted you to perform what you had promised."

"Enid, what do you mean? Of course I shall perform what I have promised.

Has Flossy been making you jealous and suspicious? My dear, believe me, there is no occasion for you to be so. You are very dear to me, and I will be faithful to you always. You shall never have cause to complain."

"Yes, I know," she said gently. "You are very good, Hubert, and you would not for the world do what you think to be a cruel thing. But would it not be better for you to be perfectly open with me? If you care for Cynthia West, would it not be better even for me that you should marry the woman whom you love?"

She looked at him and saw his face twitch. Then he shook his head.

"This is folly, Enid, and I am really not strong enough to stand it. You have no need to be troubled with doubts and fears, my little girl.

Cynthia West is as good and true as a woman can be; and I--I mean to make you happy and do my duty as a man should do."

Enid smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears.

"Ah, Hubert, I am so glad that you say that!" she cried. Hubert looked worried, tormented, anything but glad; but she went on: "I always trusted you--always believed in you--and I was right. You would never be untrue--you would never----"

"For Heaven's sake, Enid, stop!" said Hubert faintly. "I can't--I can't bear this sort of thing!" And indeed he looked so ghastly that she had to find smelling-salts and bring him some cold water to drink before she could go on.

"I am very sorry," she said penitently, "and I will say what I have to say very quickly, if you will let me. You will not acknowledge the truth, I see, though it would be wiser if you would. You love Cynthia West, and Cynthia loves you; and, though you are willing to keep your word to me, you care for me only as a cousin and a friend. Is not that really the truth?"

"My dear Enid, you are developing a wonderful amount of imagination and, I may say, of courage!"

"I don't know about imagination," she said, smiling again; "but I think that I have gained a great deal of courage since I saw you last. As you will not set me free for your own sake, I must ask you to set me free for mine. I cannot marry you, Hubert. Will you forgive me for breaking my word?"

Her eyes shone so brightly, her smile was so sweet, that Hubert looked at her in amazement. He had never seen her half so beautiful. She was transfigured; for love and happiness had done their work, and made her lovelier than she had ever been in all her life before.

"I am in earnest," she went on. "I have been false to you, Hubert dear--and yet I never liked you so well as I like you now. I have given my word to some one else--to some one that I love better--and I want to know if you will forgive me and set me free."

"Enid I cannot understand! Do you think that I am not ready--anxious--to marry you? My dear, if you will only trust me and honor me so far----"

Enid laughed in his face.

"Why won't you believe that I am in earnest?" she said. "Indeed I am speaking seriously. I love Maurice Evandale, the Rector of Beechfield, better than I love you, uncivil though it may sound."

He caught her by the hands.

"Really--truly--Enid? You love him?"

"Far better than I ever loved you, dear Hubert! You are my cousin, whom I love sincerely in a cousinly way; but I love Maurice with all my heart and soul!"--and a deep blush overspread her countenance, while her happy smile and lowered eyes attested the truth of her statement.

"And are you happy?"

"Very happy! And, Hubert, I should like to see you happy too. Now acknowledge the truth, please. You love Cynthia--is not that true?"

"Enid, you are a witch!"

"And she loves you?"

He did not answer for a minute or two. Then with unaccustomed gravity of tone, he said--

"I fear so, Enid."

"You fear so? Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because I am afraid that, even if we love each other, we ought not to marry."

Enid's face grew thoughtful, like his own.

"You mean because of my father?" she said, in a low voice.

"Yes--because of your father."

But he did not mean it in the sense that she attributed to his words. He lay back in his chair, sighing heavily, and again growing very pale.

"Hubert," said the girl, "I think you are wrong. Cynthia is not to blame for her father's actions--it is not fair to punish the innocent for the guilty."

"My dear, I must tell you before you go on that Cynthia does not believe her father guilty."

"Not guilty? Oh, Hubert! But you think so, do you not?"

He struggled with himself for a minute.