the other; one of you will cost the other's life. I give you warning. Here and now you must separate. At my door, when you leave this house, take different ways. If you do not believe me, your fate is on your own heads."

She said this very clearly and quietly; and the strange part of it is, that I could see she believed what she said. Her face worked, and she had grown very pale. She had heavy lidded eyes that she seemed unable to raise; and now they nearly closed, like a person's ready to faint. She waved her hand to dismiss us; and though it seemed rather inhuman to leave her like that, I was too thankful to get downstairs and out of the house.

How I wished I had never gone there!

We went back to the hotel where we had left the motor, and were off again in the little green car without wasting a minute or a word. Whether it occurred to Lerna to obey Miriam's warning and separate herself from me, I oan't say. She believed implicitly in that woman. But now her one idea seemed to be to get back to Agolagh as quickly as possible.

And I don't see myself what else we could have done.

We had taken the drive very silently in the morning; but on the way back we talked to each other assiduously on every kind of topio except the one that was occupying our minds. The long road over the bog seemed endless, and there was a very low red

sunset all in one spot of the vast grey sky. It was not yet dark when we turned in at the gate, and then she gave me one straight look and said—

"The play comes off tomorrow evening. We have both promised to see that through."

"Well, of course," I replied. "Imagine Eva's dismay if we failed her!"

"But I won't stay here a day after," she added firmly. "Neither will I," was my answer.

But I didn't know I was going to say that till I had said it. Sometimes one's tongue is quicker than one's mind, and takes the lead; for I saw in the same minute that I must go.

I saw it even more plainly that evening.

We were rehearsing, of course. It was the very last rehearsal before the play; even the insatiable Eva did not propose that we should rehearse on the day itself. Indeed she expressed some fears about our all getting "stale" now, and looked rather care worn over it; I suppose because we all knew our parts so well, and there was really nothing else left to worry about.

Lorna was perfectly attentive, and missed nothing from beginning to end. When the rehearsal was over she strolled quietly to the piano, and began to play softly, then to sing.

She had a low contralto voice, not absolutely clear, but sweet and thick, like honey. That may be an ugly comparison to make, but I don't know how else to describe the

slow sweetness and the sort of curl in it. In fact, I never could describe-anything.

We just listened, helplessly, each where we were; and nobody moved, and nobody said anything. Even the restless Jerry stopped shaking her foot, and leaned her her head against the back of her chair, listening. It so happened that where I sat I could see Hugo's face quite well, and I watched him simply because I couldn't help it. He was perfectly lost in the music. He had for gotten me as completely as if I had never existed. Of course I saw that. And I don't say I was surprised, because the evening before he had been entirely taken up with the other girl. She was twice as fascinating now, with her sweet singing. If she had been a mermaid, I suppose she could have lured us all wherever she pleased.

I can never forget the pain of that half-hour if I live to be a hundred. All my life, ever since I was quite a little child, I have longed to sing; and there is no more music in me than there is in a stone. I felt just like a stone, sitting there, heavy and sold, hearing that sweet voice that was stealing my treasure away from me, seeing Hugo's eyes fixed on her with such utter delight in his face. All that she sang was in Spanish, or some tongue like that, rich and soft. But suddenly she began something in English, quite different. An old-fashioned sort of song, I am sure I have seen the words somewhere

"One more glimpse of the sun, One more breath of the sea...."

She sang it as if she were pleading for life. Hugo moved nearer to her, and in that moment I knew that I had had as much as I could stand. I got up very softly. Somehow I didn't want to spoil the song that was enchanting him, and it was quite easy to go out quietly. I murmured to Eva, who was near the door, something about being tired and going to bed; and she nodded easily. Oh, what a strain of music floated out at last, as the girl sang on, about

"One more sound of returning feet..."

I filed to my room.

That was a night I don't care to think about. I didn't give way, for I knew the next day was before me. And there was just one comfort. I had not given myself away. Even Hugo had not the least idea, and the girl would never tell him. I knew that. But the night is very long when you can't sleep. I thought about Miriam and what she had said that one of us would cost the other her life.

If this had all happened in a story, I suppose I should have clenched my hands and thrown myself on my bed, and violently hated the other girl. But as a matter of faot I sat very still in a deep arm-chair, holding the arms tightly-and thinking. I had not the least desire to ourse Lorna Dare. She had won and I had lost, and that was all about it.

When it grew quite light in the morning I changed my clothes and went out of the house. I had to find James to let me out, and as he did so I noticed that the door was neither bolted nor locked, though he made quite a parade of opening it. There seem to be very few locks in Irish houses, except broken ones.

Nothing is quite as bad in the open air as it seems under a roof. I wandered about the old walled garden, with its few late flowers all glistening and wet and the borders very weedy. I gathered my courage together, and began to think with determination about plans and where I should go fer the next few days. Just then some violets sent one of their wafts of sweetness into my face. It is an odd thing that you cannot bear that kind of scent when you are unstrung. I turned away at once down a long walk with very old nut-trees shading one side of it.

A bird among the nut-trees broke into a morning song, very fast and sweet, the notes falling about like a shower of rain, and so joyful. Listening to him I suddenly burst out orying, and then began to sob heavily like a child. This was perfectly dreadful, because I couldn't stop. I leant against a nut tree, with my arms across one of its branches, and my face bent down on them, trying to be steady. That very moment footsteps came down the walk behind me. I had

to lift my head and faceHugo.

A nice position for me, all streaming with tears at such an hour of the morning-too ridiculous and undignified! He stood very quietly there and said

"What's the matter? You have been frightened."

"No, I haven't," I said. "I've only had a bad night, and then I came out too early, and missed my cup of tea. It's a stupid thing to do."

Now isn't it extraordinary how one speaks the truth at such moments, simply from the want of power to invent anything better?

Hugo didn't laugh. He explained

"I wanted to find you, and James told me where you had gone. I have something to say to you."

Then he asked me to marry

him.

I was so weak with surprise at that, that I leant against the nut-tree again, and the bird broke into his song again, quite close above our heads.

. . After which I have nothing to relate about the ensuing half-hour. Really it could have no possible interest except to our two selves.

But as I have a great value for facts, and like to have a perfectly clear grasp of them, I did ask Hugo one question.

"Will you tell me," I said, "how you could be desperately in love with one girl last evening, and with another one this morning?"

"I simply loved her singing," he said, "but I was thinking of you all the time she sang."

"That isn't all. Think how extraordinarily pretty she is!" I reminded him.

"About the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he agreed. "With heaps and heaps of money too," I went on.

"I believe you, Do you know how that Yankee fellow from Dublin described her to me in his enthusiasm? She's a regular ring-tailed soreamer,' he said, and with money that it's scandalous!""

"How pleased your people would have been if

"But the trouble is, that I don't want her a bit more than she wants me."

I

I left it alone after that. We went in, and had break. fast and all just as usual, and no one could possibly have known from either of our faces that anything had happened. hate a fuss myself, and Hugo said his father would have quite enough to think of that day. He wasn't going to speak to him about marrying on 8 morning when he hadn't even the library to sit in, because of preparations for the play. The library was to be the green-room, it seemed,

We were to act in the hall. Hugo and old James were manoeuvring the "ourtain" there for an hour. Sometimes it descended perfectly, and sometimes it stuck. I happened to be coming downstairs when I overheard James saying in a voice of exasper

ation

"Will ye lave it alone,

Master Hugo, for the love o' God! Lave it to me, an' go you now and mind yer own business with me Lady Jane." "Go to Jericho!" said Hugo in a fury. James fled to his pantry, and I made a dash for the door myself.

I was on the search for Lorna Dare. She was nowhere to be found in the house, so I went round to the stables, and heard her voice asking some one to get her horse ready the first thing after lunch, as she wanted to exercise him. The man came out as I went in; and naturally I moved up to the loose box where she was standing beside the horse, and made some remark about him.

"He isn't mine," she said, "I've only got him on trial. He's five years old, and rather green, but he'll make a good fencer some day. Not for me, I imagine."

"Why not?" I asked stupidly.

And then, without waiting for an answer, I blundered straight into it.

"Listen a moment," I said, speaking low and quick, to get it over. "This morning Hugo and I have promised to marry each other. Nobody knows. I came to tell you, as it seemed the fair thing to do. If you'll let me say so, I'm awfully sorry for you. Of course he doesn't know-and he never will."

I never found any words so hard to utter. It felt like killing something to tell her. In the silence that followed, the horse's feet rustled in the straw, and her slow hand

stroked his neck, but her face was turned away. Not that I would have looked at her face for anything. I'm glad to remember that she put out her hand to me. I held it for two seconds, and then I left her alone. There was really nothing else to do, for she must have hated the sight of me.

When you come to think of it, there's an element of hardheartedness in the arrangement of all human affairs. Why can't two people be perfectly happy without a third person being miserable? Why can't one person win without another person losing? Why must 8 person feel guilty about a thing that really wasn't their fault? And then one is told that everything is for the best; but it isn't, as far as I can

see.

But I must get on with my story. There was rather a surprise when no Lorna appeared at lunch. I informed them that she had a headache, and wasn't hungry, but was going for a ride to oure it. I wanted to keep them from worrying her in her room; that was all,

"I hope she won't have a headache this evening," said Eva, with a beginning of anxiety in her voice.

"Shouldn't wonder," said Jim. "Got a brute of a headache myself this minute, the sort that makes you forget all your words. They're slipping from me now, like eels,"

Eva fixed him with a stony glare.

"You'd better!" she said darkly, and looked so threatening that I flew for my own book of the play, and went over my words directly after lunch.

I'm not nervous, but I had never acted before, you see. There was endless sourrying up and down, chiefly in the hall, where James was placing footlights in a I hope it wasn't deserting, but we went for a walk, Hugo and I, because-well, I don't know, but it seemed necessary. When we got back, it was to find every one finishing tea, and wondering about Lorna, who had not returned. It was dusk already, and the business of the evening was looming large before us. Hugo went out at last to the stables, and I waited about uneasily till he returned, and I heard him report to Eva

"It's all right. Her horse is there, and the men saw her come back to the house. She must be upstairs now."

"Then I'll tell them to take fresh tea up to her room at once. That will waste less time," said Eva, immensely relieved, and hurrying off. "Jane, do remind her that we are all to have our faces done up by that hairdresser woman, who is here already. We must go to her in the green-room, one after another. She is not to go to our rooms, mind!— and besides"

Eva vanished, instructions that one couldn't ostoh still trailing in her wake, as it were. I went upstairs, and watched till I saw the maid coming up with the tea-tray.